Insidious
by Justbychance
Summary: Devastated by the loss of his father, Tate Langdon is forced to accept the impending marriage of his mother to a man he's never met. Although he tries to fight it, he finds himself blindsided by strong feelings for his new step sister, Violet Harmon. Finding comfort in each other they soon discover a fierce, unquenchable thirst for revenge that no one saw coming. Tate/Violet, AU
1. Chapter 1

_**I own nothing to do with AHS**_

He stared at her with seething hatred, imaging the way in which she'd meet her end as she ran back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom grooming herself.

He had been quiet most of the day as usual, while chaos ensued uproariously inside his beautiful mind, but he could no longer hold his tongue.

"Constance, you realize this is a mistake, one that, unlike the others, you won't be able to con your way out of so easily."

Hesitating briefly, to give her son a good long threatening stare, she calmly spoke in that southern drawl he despised to the very core of his being.

"First of all my dear boy, you will refer to me as your mother, especially in front of Ben and his awkward poor little waif of a daughter."

Craning his neck to peer inside the bedroom Constance had designed for this very unfortunate girl, he shook his head, feeling sorry for her already.

"Poor girl is right, it looks like a giant bottle of Pepto-Bismol exploded in there."

"Shush your mouth, every teenage girl adores the color pink, besides, I believe she'll appreciate the effort I put into making her feel at home here."

Racing by him once again Constance applied bright red lipstick, while searching for her pearl necklace that his father had given her on their anniversary just before he disappeared.

"Can you believe his ex-wife just up and left that child? Moved back to Boston, so I'm told, needed to find herself or some such nonsense, imagine a mother abandoning her own daughter that way, it's just utterly disgraceful."

He couldn't help himself as he muttered lowly under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with that fact that you were banging her husband for the past six months."

He didn't even see her coming as three hard punishing blows to the head brought him quickly to his knees.

Through gritted teeth she hovered over him without the slightest regret for what she had just done.

"Not that it's any of your business, but they were separated when we met, the divorce was final last week. I had nothing to do with the demise of that marriage."

Sliding his fingers through his unruly blonde hair, he flinched as a bony finger pointed within an inch of his face.

"You listen, and you listen good. It is imperative that this marriage is successful, we are two months behind on the mortgage. I will not stand by and watch everything I have worked so hard for be taken away because your father decided to take off for greener pastures. This house is _mine_, and it will stay mine until God himself decides to free me from this mortal coil."

Taking a deep breath to settle herself, Constance stepped in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom to fix her hair.

"Besides, I do love him, there is no denying that. He's a doctor I'll have you know, one of the mind, not the body, one of those headshrinkers that all the movie stars flock to with their strife and woes. He has a nice big practice I've been told. He'll be a good provider, and I believe a decent father figure for you, which you are sorely lacking for at the moment."

Rubbing his head slowly, his eyes drifted shut as his voice was reduced to a breathy whisper.

"It's just that it seems so fast, the wedding's in a week and dad's only been gone for eight months, besides I haven't even met this guy."

Turning from side to side, admiring her reflection in the mirror, Constance lifted her hand that garnered a huge diamond before her eyes.

"I know, it's been a whirlwind romance, he simply swept me off my feet, it was truly love at first sight. I must say I am a lucky girl, not that I don't deserve it after what your father did to me, running out on me for some girl half my age, leaving me to support a growing boy with nothing but a drawer full of overdue bills and a mere thousand dollars in the bank."

"You can't say that, you don't even know if it's true - "

Spraying expensive, overpowering perfume in the air, she practically floated into the fragrant fog.

"I know that he had more of a wandering eye for girls on the younger side, besides that's why they all leave, they use you up, take the best years of your life, only to cast you aside as if you were trash to look for a newer model, it's a story as old as time itself my dear boy."

Clasping her hands together in joyous glee as the doorbell rang throughout the immense house, Constance rushed towards the stairs before looking back at him.

"Please take off that ratty sweater and put on that button up shirt I left on your bed, it's time to meet our new family."

Hesitating briefly, listening as her high heels tapped down each step, he began to lift his favorite mustard striped cardigan from his lanky body before changing his mind.

"Honey? Where are you? There are some very special people who are anxious to meet you downstairs!"

Hearing his mother's singsong, migraine inducing voice rising up through the house, he felt the blood drain from his face.

'_fucking hell, kill me now.'_

Shuffling his beat up converse sneakers down the steps, he kept his head down, his black eyes hidden beneath a mass of blonde waves.

"There you are, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Harmon, your soon to be step father."

Every muscle in his body tensed painfully with monumental repulsion at the blatant stench of bullshit that was being shoved down his throat.

Clenching his jaw, he begrudgingly raised his hand to shake the asshole's hand that was pathetic enough to actually fall for his gold digger of a mother.

"Dr. Harmon is strictly for my patients, please feel free to call me Ben."

After an uncomfortable silence Constance stepped between them shoving her hand against his back towards the foyer, past Ben.

Tripping on his untied laces, he managed to catch himself from falling, before pulling the ends of his sweater over his hands, wishing he could disappear completely.

"Tate, I'd like you meet your sister, Violet."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**_CMLangdon, Cali Toretto, thank you so much for your awesome reviews :) _**

Tate heard her voice first, small, barely there, laced with bitter tones, a forced salutation that boarded on spiteful.

"Hey."

Intrigued, taken off guard, long eyelashes lifted slowly revealing eyes as dark as night that sought with curiosity to take her in.

She was nothing that he expected, almost folded within herself, she vibrated with anger as tiny hands clung to an old suitcase.

Knuckles white from too firm a grip, she held onto the worn, ripped luggage as if her life depended on it.

"Hi"

He felt almost nervous shifting his weight from one foot to another, tied up and twisted inside by her, he couldn't help but stare.

Quickly they were both abandoned by their respective parents as they engaged in vomit inducing affection in the living room.

Her face immediately angled down to her small feet in an effort to block out the offending noises of fevered kisses and whispered hushed words of adoration.

Constance always did lack a respect for boundaries, or basic common sense for that matter.

Left alone with this strange and wonderous girl, Tate felt her despair, it matched his own, even possibly reaching beyond, he couldn't help feeling drawn to her, protective, responsible even.

Reaching for her suitcase he wanted to help her.

"Here, let me take this up to your room."

Jerking her hands away, she aimed her gaze directly at him, nearly leveling him right then and there.

"I got it."

He let out an audible gasp from somewhere deep inside witnessing the fire in her whiskey colored eyes.

She was fearless, unflinching in her tough, biting delivery.

Moved physically by her, he rocked back on his heels, seeing through her as if she were glass, she was a fighter, hardened, but hypnotically vulnerable, clearly soft in places not yet seen.

Tilting his head, feeling explicitly pulled in, he breathed out swiftly settling his hands by his side.

"Sorry."

Ignoring his apology, she stood soberly, resigning herself to this hellish situation, but frozen still as if her feet were glued to the floor beneath her.

She was more than pretty, a far cry from the typical California bleach blondes he was used to, she was something rare, extraordinary in a way that would be seen by most people as odd, only he wasn't like most people, and to him … she was beautiful.

A long skirt flowing into purple tights clung to secrets he give anything to discover, as seemingly unending over-sized layers hung from slender delicate shoulders.

Golden pin straight hair meant to hide, only helped to accentuate her porcelain flawless skin, lips like petals on pink roses, like the ones centered on the dining room table, a mouth that was meant to be kissed, hard and often.

Only that would never happen, not with him, not ever.

Soon she would be his sister, entirely unattainable, in every way forbidden.

Dropping his hands Tate nodded once, before edging his chin upwards.

"They seem…_ busy_, so why don't you follow me, I'll show you to your room."

Wincing at their parents continued affections, she nodded, obviously in joined misery over this union.

"Ok."

Once upstairs he passed by his room only to notice she wasn't behind him anymore.

Finding her grazing her fingertips along the bindings of the many books on his shelf, he stepped closer almost wary of approaching her.

Clearing his throat, feeling as if he was somehow invading some private moment, he rasped quietly.

"This is my room."

Lifting her gaze around his dark hunter green walls, and dark shades that blocked out the sun, she looked back at him, before returning to his books.

"I figured… I like it."

Sweeping his shaggy curls from his eyes, he looked towards the direction they were headed regretfully.

"Yeah, about that, I have a feeling, you're not going to feel the same about your's… I think Constance envision herself at this age, and really... _went_ with it."

Rolling her eyes at the thought, she brushed by him down the hall, stopping at the bedroom that she knew was most definitely hers.

Leaning against the doorway, he left her suitcase back in his room, unsure if he should take it.

Huffing out a long shuddered breath, Violet covered her mouth in shock.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Lace doilies covered every flat surface, the bedspread and matching curtains were a gaudy floral print more suited for her dead grandmother, everything else was the most nauseating color pink she'd ever seen.

Covering her face, mortified by unforeseen emotion, she turned away from him feeling the stinging threat of angered tears.

Her reaction hit him like a knife to the heart, he barely knew this girl, regardless, he felt a strong need to comfort her, to do anything to stop her from crying.

"Hey, it's not that bad… I-I mean it definitely is, it's a fucking nightmare, but … I can help fix it."

Despairingly, she brushed her hair away from her face, trying hard to bite back the rage rushing up inside of her.

"It's not just the room."

Tentatively, walking towards her, Tate placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"I know, but you're not alone in this."

Facing him, her body forced his hand to slide down her arm leaving it to ghost along her fingers.

"Really? How do you figure?"

It wasn't meant to be snarky, or mean, she was more or less pushing him, challenging what she felt from the moment they met, making sure she hadn't read him wrong.

Caught up in her stare, how she was unwavering in her quest for a real answer, no matter how tense it made the air between them.

"You have _me_ now… a brother, believe me, I know what you must be going through."

Taking a step closer to him, she grazed her thumb along his hand.

"Is that _right_? Tate... you don't know _anything _about me."

Without realizing it, he let the words fall out like little truths shocking her, moving her to a place unfamiliar, unknown.

He shouldn't have done it, he should've known better, but once he started he couldn't stop.

"I know you try very hard to be tough, but that's not who you really are, not entirely, not inside. It's obvious you've been through something bad, and I know without question you hate your father just as much as I hate my mother..."

Taking her hand, he relished in the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch.

"... and Violet, you've made it pretty clear that you'd rather be anywhere else but here, but we both need to face the fact that_ this_ is _going_ to happen."

There was a split second where his meaning was lost between the wedding, and something else altogether.

Releasing her hand, he backed away into the hall, trying to savage a moment he shouldn't have allowed to happen.

If his mother knew, if she had one inkling of what was going through his mind, she would kill him straight away.

If there was one thing he learned in his young life, you never cross Constance Langdon, especially not him, not ever.

"Listen, you can stay in my room, this weekend we'll pick out a different color, get rid of this shit, so you can make it your own. I don't mind crashing here for a while."

Hesitating for several seconds, contemplating his kindness, whether to trust such a thing, she finally spoke.

"You would do that for me?"

Hearing their parents coming up the steps, he nodded, still locked in the intensity of her stare, in the beauty in everything that she was.

Feeling his heart racing, pounding hard against his ribs, he was uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Yes, Violet."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**_I wish I could thank you personally for all the amazing reviews you leave me,'guest' just please know how much I appreciate every word :) Also big thanks to notaboogeyman, and esp. Sarah v, for always being there for me :)_**

**_I have the next several chpts already written in my head for this so I will be posting soon again._**

Taking his seat at the dinner table, later that night, Tate witnessed his mother give the performance of a lifetime as June Cleaver, practically floating on air effortlessly in her new red dress and lacey frilly apron.

Placing a large roast on a silver platter in the center of the table, garnished with colorful vegetables and bright green parsley, she practically beamed at Ben's response.

"Constance, sweetheart, this looks amazing. Not only are you the most gorgeous woman in the world, you obviously have talents that far exceed the average housewife."

"Well _you_ would know darling."

They both snickered at his double entendre that nearly made Tate get up and leave right then and there.

Gracefully sliding into his lap, at Tate's father's seat at head of the table, she kissed her, soon to be husband, on the cheek, while reaching over to grab a bottle of Merlot.

Giggling, she spoke in her sugary sweet accent, while pouring him a glass.

"Well I do declare, it is unequivocally evident that there is at least one gentleman left in this wretched city of angels."

Digging his fingernails into his thighs Tate stared intensely ahead, doing his best to not gag on the bile rising up from his stomach.

"Oh dear it seems as though we are missing someone, sweetheart did you tell Violet that dinner was ready?"

Sighing in frustration, Ben nodded clearly angered by his daughter's lack of manners, it was clear that he was more than embarrassed as his hand curled into a fist on the table.

"Yes I have, I'm sure she'll be right down, you have to understand Violet has been through a lot changes of late, that, coupled with the raging hormones of a sixteen year old, and her seemingly unending need to rebel at every turn, has made life quite difficult lately."

"Actually my hormones surprisingly have nothing to do with it this time dad, but thanks for your concern. I was talking to mom, remember her? The woman who you were married to for eighteen years, who put you through medical school, raised your child ? Or have you already forgot - "

**"That's quite enough Violet."**

Ben's jump in volume surprised even Constance, as his fist slammed down onto the table rattling the glasses and silverware.

Tate raised his eyes to meet Violet's instantly, an unspoken understanding was passed between them, along with sincere empathy.

Sliding off his lap, Constance pulled out a chair directly opposite from Tate.

"Oh Ben, I'm sure Violet is just tired, it's been a long day for everyone, besides this is our very first meal as a family, we need to make this memorable. Now, who would like to say grace for this wonderful bounty that God has bestowed upon us."

Feeling waves of anger coming off of Ben as he continued to stare at his daughter, Tate spoke up in an attempt to take some of the heat off of her.

"_Grace_? Really Constance? The last time you were at church was for Aunt Sylvia's funeral, and if I remember correctly it was to make sure you were next in line for grandma's diamond broach, and I quote, '_It will be a cold day in hell before cousin Rita gets her greedy little hands on it_."

His plan worked, maybe too well, but the distraction that was dealt out on her behalf was not lost on Violet, not in the least.

Taking her seat at the other end of the table, Constance reached for her wine, her hand visibly shaking with rage.

Directing his attention to Tate, Ben used his calm patronizing voice, that he was sure was usually reserved for his patients.

"Tate, I know this transition is difficult, but I think we should be grateful for this beautiful dinner that your mother has so graciously prepared for us, she obviously put a lot of work into making us feel welcome."

Biting his tongue at the hypocrisy spread before him, Tate realized he was in enough trouble.

Folding his hands in prayer, Ben connected to Constance while kicking Violet's chair causing her to do the same.

"Thank you for this magnificent dinner, and more so, leading me to my soon to be bride, I couldn't have asked for anything more than the happiness she continues to give to me, Amen."

This gushing declaration seemed, for the moment to snap Constance from the violence she was planning to bestow on Tate later than night.

The rest of the meal was taken up by Wedding talk, how it would be a simple ceremony in the backyard, that Violet would be the maid of honor, and Tate the best man, both facts were news to them as they basically just pushed their food around unable to eat.

"I can't believe it's only five days away! Violet tomorrow you'll come with me to have your dress tailored, and Ben has kindly volunteered to take you for your suit Tate. The colors will be lilac and silver - grey, very romantic, perfect for spring, and new beginnings."

Constance held up her glass to toast Ben to those last words of 'new beginnings' it was all that Tate could take for the night.

"Mother, may Violet and I be excused, I told her I would show her around town tonight so she won't be completely lost tomorrow."

She smiled wide, believing that this act of kindness was a sign that he was accepting his role in their new family.

"Why sure Tate, I think that's a lovely idea, Ben?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Ben matched Constance's ridiculous grin, absolutely, just have her home by nine, I wouldn't want her to be tired for her first day of school tomorrow."

**vTv**

Staring out the window watching the street lights blur before her eyes, Violet held her hand out the window wistfully letting the wind rush through her fingers.

"Thanks for getting me out of there."

Stealing glances, he nodded, caught between the desire to ask her a million questions about herself, and letting her story unfold like the mystery that she was.

Pulling along the curve of a huge Gothic style building with a towering cross rising to the heavens, he sighed heavily.

"It sucks that you're not going to Westfield High with me, what's up with the whole catholic thing anyway, is your dad like hyper religious or something?"

Eyeing the massive building Violet shook her head.

"No, it's all a bullshit act, like everything else, he just doesn't trust public school's, he believes they'd be a bad influence on me, and I refuse to be shipped away to a boarding school, so this is a compromise I guess."

Pulling out onto the street again Tate, drove past his house towards town.

"Where are we going?

Turning into the local hardware store he turned the car off.

"To get new paint for your room, there's brushes and drop clothes in the basement, so you just need to pick out a color."

Hesitating with her hand on the door she looked back before he got out the car.

"Why are you doing all this for me?"

Shrugging, he looked ahead knowing if he gazed into those beautiful sad eyes she'd see more than he wanted her too.

"I don't know, we're kind of in this together, I just want to help."

**vTv**

They were fifteen minutes late getting back from town, Tate told her she should head up to his room while he put the cans of dark navy blue paint in the basement, not really feeling up to having this argument with Constance tonight.

Upstairs, Violet pushed her old suitcase underneath his bed, hiding it from everyone before changing.

Lying between his sheets in a black tank top and striped pajama bottoms, she pulled out one of his books that she discovered from under his pillow.

Flipping through pages of different pictures of birds, she ran her fingers over his name written on the library card inside the front cover.

Closing her eyes she sunk inside the covers, suddenly surrounded by his scent, it was as if he was holding her, soothing her, it took her off guard how much this affected her, how much _he_ was affecting her.

It was then that she heard it, muffled voices coming from across the room behind his dresser.

Sliding out of bed she pushed the piece of furniture slightly away from the wall to reveal a vent covered with an antique decorative grate.

It was Constance, she was slapping, hitting, swearing vulgarities at him in rapid succession.

Violet held her breath hearing him beg her to stop, telling her how sorry he was, how he swore to never embarrass her in front of them again.

When questioned why he was sleeping in her room he defended her, telling his mother that she felt better being closer to her father, that they should be understanding, that it would make Ben happy to know that she cared about Violet's feelings.

Violet jumped as a final punishing blow was delivered for bringing her home late.

Quickly pushing the dresser back in its place, she ran back into bed wrapping herself in his blankets, holding his book close to her chest.

For almost an hour Violet laid there unable to sleep, unable to forget what she had witnessed, she heard nothing beyond the violent outburst, and assumed everyone had gone to bed.

Sitting up she noticed the doorknob start to turn, a soft whisper drifted through to her.

"Violet, are you awake?"

Immediately answering a soft 'yes' he appeared closing the door behind him.

Whatever he was going to say fell quickly away as he looked upon her sitting up in his bed.

Her tousled blonde hair wild around her face, the swell of her breasts rising out from her black tank top that was in sharp contrast to her pale skin.

It was almost more than he could take.

She was beautiful, the most stunning creature he'd ever seen.

Staring shamelessly at her for far too long, he fought to find his breath.

Speaking in hushed, deep tones, he stepped closer, barefoot, in an old tee shirt and ripped sweatpants.

"I-I just wanted to apologize for not getting a chance to change the sheets, I can do it now -"

Answering a little too quick, she wrapped her hand around his blankets pulling them towards her.

"No, really, it's fine."

His stomach flipped at her reaction, imaging being with her between those sheets, hovering over her, nestled between her thighs.

"I just wanted to check on you, to see if you... _needed_ anything."

She shook her head, returning a stare that he was sure could stop the world from spinning if she so wished it.

"Ok, well, than… good night Violet."

Nearly stumbling backwards over his own feet when she pulled in her bottom lip biting down on it gently, he turned leaving quickly before hearing her whispered response.

"Night Tate."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	4. Chapter 4

_**YellowBrickQueen, my guest, Cali Toretto, notaboogeyman, guest, Tigermusic ... thank you all so much for your kind reviews, so appreciate it. :)**_

Brushing his blonde waves from his eyes, Tate looked around at two out of the four walls that he had completed so far, he wanted it to be perfect for her, it was important to him, for some reason _everything_ about Violet Harmon had become important to him.

It was well after two am when he continued to carefully paint the trim around her windows unable to sleep.

The color she had picked, midnight blue, was intrinsic her. Two sides of the same coin, when daylight lit the walls it would appear to be a beautiful shade of indigo, while at night the color appeared to be black as night, it suited who she was always changing, never really giving you a true glimpse of what was inside.

After seeing her that night, beneath his sheets, staring at him in the way that could break a person's will, _his_ will, he decided that it would be safer for everyone involved if he stayed away.

The fallout for giving into her subtle cues and his increasingly intense feelings for her, would be immeasurable, for everyone involved.

He was sure it would lead to Ben shipping her off to some far away boarding school where he'd never see her again, and that was something he couldn't live with, not now, not ever.

So Tate did his best to be polite, but allusive, making it a point to be where she wasn't, only passing by her in the hall or in the Kitchen briefly.

It was hard, almost impossible, but he knew it for the best, he didn't trust Ben's underlying anger, and he had the scars and bruises as evidence of what his mother was capable of.

His avoidance turned out easier than he thought, their family evening meals, that Constance had wanted so dearly, were harder to establish past that first night due to Ben's hectic schedule.

Besides his regular office hours nearly an hour away, he made several visits to a mental facility to meet with patients that were too serious for outpatient care.

Constance was busy herself, making the final preparations for the Wedding, that was now only a day away.

Determined to make this the social event of the year, she was in constant contact with caterers and florists, coordinating everything down to the smallest detail.

The backyard was beginning to look like a chapter out of The Great Gatsby, or a pastel drenched nightmare depending on your taste.

Violet spent most of her time in his room, switching schools mid semester had proved complicated when they discovered that the Catholic curriculum was vastly different than the classes back east that she had been taking.

Even though her father was always working, he had a way of always checking up on her, every night he'd stop by her room no matter the time to painstakingly go over every single detail of her time spent, then there were the constant calls and texts to keep track of her every waking minute to make sure she wasn't 'slacking off' as he put it.

Controlling, and obsessive were kind ways of putting his parenting style.

Ben had her on lock down, working with a tutor after school trying to catch up on her Latin, which everyone in her class had already mastered, then studying at night until bed, unless she was practicing.

Violet took violin lessons three days a week, which also required two hours of practice each night, it was the only thing she didn't mind, it was her peace, her only solace.

This was Tate's favorite time of the day, it was always the same, between seven and nine on the dot.

After moving the nightstand over, he'd slide down on the floor, pull his knees up to his chest, and press his ear close to the vent.

Sometimes he'd close his eyes and imagine her playing, other nights he'd whisper his poetry, accompanying her music, as if they were connecting somehow in a very intimate way.

It was always a sorrowful piece, full of deeply felt emotion, a painful journey of some sort.

She'd pour her heart out through her fingers, penetrating the carefully, crafted wood with her soul, making it sing for her.

He found it intensely erotic, picturing her cradling her instrument within her body, her perfect cheek pressed to the wood as she caressed the strings gracefully with the bow pressed between her fingers, that always seem to speak to the deepest part of him.

It was evident she had a gift, that much was true, although this was lost on Constance who found it to be quite irritating, complaining often that it gave her migraines.

Constance always had the tact of a sledgehammer in every situation, Tate believed it was due to a missing gene, the complete and total lack to consider anyone else's feelings but her own.

It was becoming very clear to Violet, what he had always known, this was Constance's world and they were all just living in it.

Tate had the most time on his hands, besides school, his track practice and meets afterwards, he was free.

In the beginning track was something he would use to clear his mind, an escape from the arguments at home, but it soon became just a pathway to a scholarship, a way to crawl out from beneath the heavy foot of Constance bearing down on his throat.

Climbing down from the ladder, he placed the lid tightly on the can of paint, securing it with a few well positioned taps with a small hammer, before he heard something stirring downstairs.

Grabbing a bat from the hall closet, he made his way, noting that everyone's bedroom doors were shut.

Descending the stairs the noise became clearer, resting the bat against the landing at the bottom of the steps, he found Violet sitting on the couch in the dark.

The moonlight was streaming in the windows basking upon her tear stained face as she swirled a dark liquid around in her father's crystal glass.

"Can't sleep?"

It was almost as if she felt him there, the way she didn't even flinch as his soft voice found her.

Lowering her face, she attempted to hide the fact that she had been crying.

Watching her shake her head 'no' he moved close to sit beside her, lifting the liquor from her hand.

Bringing it up to his lips the aroma hit him immediately.

"Bourbon, my father used to drink this."

Her voice cracked even though she tried her best to hide her emotion.

"It helps me sleep."

Nodding Tate leaned over bracing his elbows on his knees, focusing on the pattern of the expensive Persian rug beneath his feet.

"Do you mind me asking what's keeping you awake?"

Scoffing, she tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her ear, finally giving him a view of the vulnerability crossing her face.

"Besides the obvious, have you seen the dress your mother is making me wear?"

Shrugging, lifting the side of his mouth upwards in a sardonic smile they locked eyes.

"No, but it can't be any worse than the suit she picked out for me."

Taking the glass back she took another sip, hissing as the amber liquid slid down her throat.

"You don't look as if you're enjoying that, besides aren't you nervous that he'll notice the missing booze?"

Sighing heavily she placed the glass on the coffee table before leaning back against the couch.

"It burns going down, warms me from the inside, I like the way it feels, and no, I don't care what he notices."

Her voice was beyond sad, he couldn't help feeling that something else was behind her sleepless nights.

"Violet, you know you can talk to me."

Turning towards him fully, directing her gaze purposefully into his dark eyes, she seemed hurt, just the thought nearly stopped his heart completely.

"Can I ? You've barely talked to me since that first night, I know you're avoiding me, you're not fooling anyone, you understand Tate that your subtlety is for shit."

Lowering his voice, leaning back to face her, he wanted her to understand, not caring in that moment about consequences.

"It's nothing that I want Violet, just the opposite... which is why I felt the need to try."

Reaching out towards him, she began playing with a loose string from his mustard cardigan.

She twisted it around her finger until it turned dark purple, while mulling over his answer.

"I like your sweater, you shouldn't wear it while you're working, you wouldn't want to get paint on it."

Surprised, he widened his black eyes, evoking an immediate reaction from her, a hint of a smile, an obvious clear attraction.

"I know _you..._ like _you_ know _me_ Tate. I hear you through the vent too. I know you listen to me, I can hear you recite your poems to my music. It's my favorite part of the day, well that, and listening to you talk in your sleep, so interesting all the things that fall from your mouth when your mind is free to play."

He could feel his heart pound hard in his chest again, he hated how transparent he was, how it was impossible to hide what he was feeling.

He was very aware of who and what he dreamed about when he did manage to sleep, and it wasn't a road he knew he should be going down with her.

"Violet, you still haven't told me why you're down here in the middle of the night."

He wasn't sure how it happened, but the distance between them had almost disappeared, it was like that with her, the absence of being aware, of missing moments.

"It's my mom, I keep trying to talk to her, but ever since she moved back to Boston, it's been strange."

Unconsciously he reached out to brush her hair from her long eyelashes accidentally, faintly touching her cheek.

She leaned into his hand, as if it were comforting her, soothing her fears.

"Every time I try to talk to my mom about why she left, she gets very quiet, and then tells me she has to go. Once she rambled on about having no choice, and that someday I'd understand and forgive her."

"I'm sure she didn't want to leave you Violet."

Bringing her mouth dangerously close to his she whispered lightly to share her secret.

"That's just it Tate, I think my dad has something to do with this. I can't prove it, but this is just something she would never do, we were so close, she'd never leave me, ever."

He didn't know how it happened, he didn't recall moving at all, but somehow he found his mouth drifting along her jaw, sweeping along her soft skin until he could feel her warm breath on his lips, not touching, just hovering over her, waiting, as if he had no choice.

"Of course she didn't, no one would ever choose to be away from you Violet. There has to be a reason, we can figure out what happened, why she really left."

_"We?_"

His body hardened at just the raspy sound of her voice as it caressed his skin, floating over him like silk.

The urge to kiss her was too much, he could feel his will fading, surrendering without a fight.

Backing away he brought his hand down to slip into hers knowing that his idea to stay away from her wasn't going to work.

He had to be strong, promising himself to be there for her, for whatever she needed.

"We'll figure it out, I promise you we'll find out why she left."

Nodding slowly her eyes drifted shut as she moved closer.

She was right there, more than willing, wanting it as much as he did.

He parted his lips, brushing over her pretty mouth, unable to withstand her invitation any longer.

**"Violet! Are you down there? Get to bed now!"**

Responding to Ben's angered voice, Tate grabbed the glass shoving it between the end table and the couch.

"Go, before he finds you, we'll talk more, I promise."

Rushing towards him quickly, she pressed her mouth to his ear, rendering him still for several minutes after she was gone.

"Thank you Tate."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Cal Toretto, CMLangdon, Guests, tomieharley, Alexis, and esp. 'my' guest :) thank you so much for your reviews.**_

Eyes as dark as a starless night slowly opened to the day that he prayed would never come.

Sleeping the morning and a good part of the afternoon away from exhaustion, Tate sat up shivering, torn within himself, for soon, _very_ soon, Ben would become his step father, and more fatally, Violet, his step sister.

A finality that he couldn't bear to handle, the loss of such hope for an intimacy that he craved more than life itself was within his sights.

To be true to himself would be to admit that he had fallen in love, hopelessly devoted to her beyond measure, past the point of rational thinking or self serving motives.

He was lost as to how it was possible to feel so strongly, to know without doubt in your bones, in the deepest recess of your soul, in an instant upon meeting, that it could be nothing less than love.

He knew at that point, that the poets that had always given him comfort, had written out of truth not fantasy, that love was the beginning and the end of life itself, everything else between was meaningless, just worthless chatter lost to the wind like ashes.

He understood completely, without question that _she_ was his beginning, the breaking dawn to all that would matter in his life.

Still half asleep, dizzy with hazy, lustful dreams of her, Tate fumbled for his phone, his eyes widening at the time, realizing that he had slept most of the day away.

Determined to finish her room as a gift, in hopes that somehow it would ease her pain, he worked all night.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he could hear chaos ensue throughout the house, a flurry of staff rushing around under Constance's iron fist, and ridiculous demands.

He knew that soon, if not already, his mother would be looking for him, wanting to avoid all contact with her, he sat on the edge of the bed quietly looking around at his work.

Dark black walls had returned again to the vivid beauty of indigo blue as the sun peaked inside tall narrow windows.

Satisfied with his efforts he couldn't help but give in to the pain of sore muscles for all that he did.

Collapsing back on the bed to stare up at her blank ceiling, his thoughts were not his own any longer, he was drowning in her, gladly, willingly, as if walking into a dark sea, blind to a mysterious and beautiful unknown world he never wanted to emerge from.

After all that he had been through, he couldn't help but wonder why fate had dealt him such a torturous hand, to be around her all the time, to be so close, so near, that he could hear the perfect little mundane details of her day, to the soft shallow breaths as she slept at night, and still never be able to disclose his true feelings, never touch, kiss, to delve into the most secret parts of her.

But in the face of all that was cruel, and unfair he was determined to be what she needed; friend, brother, the one person that she could count on, that would do anything for her, while all along silently, longingly loving her.

For that reason and many more he tried his best to fix his mother's decorating monstrosity by searching the attic, remembering that the previous owners had left behind furniture, and other furnishings that were closer to Violet's personality.

Removing childlike white glossy bedroom furniture, he replaced it with an antique mahogany bedroom set with scrolled etchings and clawed feet.

He placed an old rocking chair in the corner of the room that he had found in the basement that appeared to be as old as the house itself.

Also in the basement, inside a dusty chest, hidden under spider webbed boxes, he found long heavy velvet drapes that spilled onto the floor, and a matching quilt that was clearly handmade, with frayed edges, silky to the touch.

Both the drapes and quilt were the rich color of blueberries, with black interwoven threads throughout, which matched her walls perfectly.

Getting rid of the floral pink lighting fixture, he placed a Tiffany floor lamp in the corner of the room that he stole from a room Constance referred to as her library in social situations.

The shade spilled down with colors of plum purples, deep blues, muted yellows and emerald greens, while the base was made to look like the thin trunk of a tree, it's roots spreading out onto the floor.

When lit, the colors flowed down hanging like the leaves of a willow tree giving off a haunting shadowy glow to the room.

Everything was worn, even nicked in places, obviously very old and used, but that very state gave it a dreamy, melancholy, romantic ambiance that he imagined she'd appreciate in her own way.

How he would explain all of this to Constance was something that he'd deal with later, all he cared about was Violet's happiness, even more, her approval.

Wanting so much to show her, he searched the house before hearing her muffled voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Before he could get to her, a large hand roughly grabbed his elbow, pulling him outside far from the earshot of anyone near except for the help that was rushing past them hastily setting everything up in the backyard.

Shocked he found himself looking up into Ben's serious, hard expression.

"Tate, I can tell that you're a very smart kid, you're quiet, but I'm not blind, I can see right through you, I understand what's going on here."

Shoving his hands in his front pockets, Tate looked down at his sneakers nervously wondering just how transparent his feelings for Violet had been.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, Ben came closer, becoming increasingly irritated.

"I know you... _get_ Violet, I can tell that you see that she doesn't want this marriage to happen. She blames me for her mother abandoning her, and I think you've noticed, that when she chooses to, she can act like a spoiled, petulant child. So what I'm asking, what I'd greatly appreciate from you, is a little..._ help_."

Shaking slightly now from his ever growing hatred of this man, he shrugged.

"What kind of help?"

His face relaxed, taken off guard by the agreeable teenager now looking back at him, Ben believed he understood the weight of the situation.

"I can not have her making a scene today. _Nothing_ can ruin this day for your mother, I just won't have it."

Nodding as a span of white sharp teeth gnashed together savagely, Tate spoke in forced agreement.

"I hear what you're saying Ben, but what do you want from me?"

There was a hard edge to Tate's voice as he struggled to remain calm.

Glancing up at the extravagantly decorated backyard, Ben sighed heavily with stark determination.

"I need you to stay with her, be her shadow, if you see any sign that she even so much as pouts during the ceremony, I want you to remove her from the party."

"Remove her?"

Tate did his best to rein in his rage at the blatant cold indifference towards his own daughter.

"Yes _remove_ her, take her inside the house, stay with her in her room, watch TV, listen to music, do whatever, just keep her away from your mother, I don't want anything ruining this night for Constance."

A wicked agreeable grin rose along Tate's mouth, as he nodded slowly envisioning two unmarked graves beneath the house, deep in the earth.

"No problem, you can count on me."

It wasn't long after he escaped Ben, that he found himself trapped in his mothers arms, pinned against the wall in the hallway.

His patience was waning, Constance was the last person he wanted to see at this point as he strained to hear Violet's voice again.

"I am counting on you to be on your best behavior tonight, I am gravely serious, you are to act like a perfect gentleman, an absolute delight, as if this the happiest day of your life."

Wrapping her hand around his throat, with a hard thrust, she slammed his head against the plaster cracking it slightly.

"This is a glorious promising start for me Tate, a brand new beginning, and I will not tolerate you or that strange twig of a girl tainting it in any way, do we have an understanding?"

Countless times he had endured abusive threats and punishments from his mother, but this was different, this time her vile warning included Violet.

An unfamiliar glimpse of madness flickered across his now fierce black eyes throwing her off balance.

Furrowing her brow, she let him go, suddenly aware of an eerie darkness behind his stare, a definite switch from the boy whose throat was permanently wedged beneath the heavy weight of her foot.

Dismissing what she had just witnessed, blaming it on nerves, she quickly regained her intimidating posture, while poking him hard in the chest.

"Just be warned, if you are anything less that the charming, polite, perfectly behaved boy, that with every fiber of my being I know you can be, I will rain holy hell down upon you, and as far as my soon to be step daughter is concerned, you best keep ms. misery in check."

Giving her a single nod, he tried to get by her but was pulled back roughly once again.

Stuffing a list inside his palm she backed away straightening out her clothes, as her fake smile reappeared along her heavily made up face.

"Not so fast, I need you to pick up a few things for tonight, the ceremony will be at eight o'clock sharp, at the magical time of twilight, where I shall wed under a thousand twinkling white lights as far as the eye can see. It will be the very fairy tale your father so selfishly deprived me of so many years ago. So you see Tate, being late, is simply not an option."

With that she was gone leaving him with his list of errands and no time to find Violet.

**Forty minutes before the wedding**

Running inside, Tate dropped off two large bags on the kitchen counter before taking off upstairs.

Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, he grabbed his suit and shoes, before hesitating outside his bedroom where Violet had been staying, hovering his fist over the door, debating whether or not to disturb her.

Deciding against it, fearing there wouldn't be enough time, he slowly backed away towards the bathroom to shower.

Eyeing the time he ran down the stairs feeling painfully out of place, as he forced a fake smile on his face remembering his mother's threat.

Just as he stepped outside, a string quartet began to play Beethoven's, Ode to Joy, as guests milled around crystal punch bowls and long white clothed tables filled with exotic hors d'oeuvres.

Slipping his arm through his dark grey jacket he heard a soft voice waft just behind his ear.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

Turning slowly he was ill prepared for the vision that appeared before him.

Visibly gasping, he stood frozen, locked in on her, barely able to breathe.

Long dark eyelashes cast down to the grass beneath her heels, as if embarrassed by the weight of his stare.

"Don't say a word, the make up, the dress, it was all your mother's idea. I know how ridiculous I look."

Fumbling for words that wouldn't come he breathed out shakily.

"Violet... no, not at all."

It was as if everyone around her faded away, disappeared, disintegrated into vapor, forcibly hiding, ashamed by her beauty.

Her dress was short, well above the knee, it was the shade of lilacs, strapless, tight fitting, cinched at the waist with a silver band of tool flowing outward.

"Some woman picked it out, did everything, Constance dropped me off, I didn't have a choice."

It was everything she hated, nothing like her at all, even so as she spoke each word he couldn't take his eyes off her pale pink lips, smoky dark eyes, and the faint hue of peach upon her cheeks.

Each slight turn of her face send her shiny golden hair drifting along her bare slender shoulders like silk.

"Your mother insisted that I wear my hair up, but that's where I put my foot down, I feel like a damn ceramic doll as it is, I can't believe I have to - "

Stepping closer without conscious thought, black wide eyes followed her from head to toe, her skin was shimmering, incandescent, glowing in a way that shouldn't be real, she stood almost irritated, having no knowledge of what she was doing to him.

"Violet, you're… beautiful… stunning really."

Disregarding his compliment she reached for his tie that was hanging loose around his neck.

Moving closer than he was prepared for, she lifted his collar slipping the material flush against his stiff white shirt, before looping the tie around itself.

"I used to do this for my dad all the time, I get the feeling you're about as comfortable as I am."

Swallowing hard he found it hard to remember the simple action of speaking.

"Yeah, this really isn't me."

Adjusting the final knot of his tie, tugging it tight, she unconsciously pulled him towards her, causing them both to stiffen as their bodies brushed together.

Her lips parted slightly, her bourbon glazed eyes flickered upwards to meet his, acknowledging for just a second, the intense connection between them, before she dismissed it away.

"There, all done. I have to admit you clean up nice Tate."

Lowering his head drifting alongside her, his eyes slid shut as his lips brushed against her silky hair close to her ear.

Her scent surrounded him, wrapping around his body infiltrating his senses, sweet like honey, reminding him of the hint of rain in the air just before a storm on a summer night, seducing, hypnotic, it was nothing he could name, nothing definitive, it was just…_ her_.

His thoughts were suddenly cut off as the sound of Ben's voice blared loudly over the crowd.

Suddenly the intrusive bodies of relatives and colleagues he didn't know reappeared around them like meandering cattle ruining his moment with her.

"Welcome everyone to our very special day, the ceremony will begin now if everyone would care to take a seat."

Violet and Tate naturally drifted closer under the glare of the crowd.

Their eyes met, their pain cemented them together, bonding them in an intimate way, as they realized in that moment all they really had was each other.

Feeling two heavy hands pressing on their backs, Ben pointed to their seats in the front row impatiently.

"People are watching."

Three words spoken through gritted teeth was enough to feel as though Tate needed to protect her in that moment, shielding her as much as possible.

Laying a gentle hand to the small of her back, Tate led her to their seats as judgmental eyes followed them with whispered gossip.

Her body stiffened uncomfortably under the scrutiny bestowed upon them both.

They were seen as nothing but baggage, the remainders, and reminders of the failed relationships that led to this occasion.

Just then the music rose, playing Pachelbel's Canon in D, as the bride began her walk down the rose petal laid aisle.

They both turned at the same time to see Constance dressed in a traditional southern white gown made for someone in their twenties.

Her hair was swept up high, with a short puffy veil that fell to her shoulders, it was absurd, everything about this wedding was inane, painful, impossible to withstand.

For some reason in that moment Tate truly believe Violet's accusations surrounding her mother's departure, further more he started to question the validity of his own father's disappearance.

Tate reached for her hand, their fingers laced immediately together beginning a union that was far deeper than the empty facade unfolding before them.

Vows were exchanged, traditional words of love and devotion deemed to be too much for Violet as she swept her other hand under his arm pulling him close.

A joyous roar erupted as the minister declared them husband and wife setting off a flood of flower petals upon them as congratulatory hugs and shaking of hands followed blocking out their view.

It was the perfect time to escape.

Clutching her hand tight they disappeared past everyone into the darkness running as fast as they could.

Breathless he led her inside the dark house up the stairs until they collapsed across from each other in the hallway.

Kicking off her heels she shook her head glaring blankly at the floor, "That was so fucked up, I can't believe this is happening."

Keeping her focus on the floor her voice softened. "This must be so hard for you, memories of your dad must be everywhere in this house... I'm sorry Tate, do you have any idea where he is?"

Shaking his head his eyes lifted to her door, realizing this was a good time for a distraction, anything to help them forget for a moment what was happening.

"I finished your room."

Shocked, she tilted her head in disbelief.

"That's impossible, it's only been a few days."

Giving a single nod towards the door, he smiled revealing a flash of dimples that she had not noticed before.

Her fingers slipped around the doorknob hesitantly as she looked back at him, still wondering if he was telling her the truth.

Wordlessly she stepped inside, her eyes widening with each glance as he brushed by her turning on the Tiffany lamp adding to the romantic atmosphere.

Her silence was torture, but it was clear that she was moved as her fingertips swept over everything as if she needed to touch each piece.

Sitting on the bed, he took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and released the top two buttons of his shirt, just content to watch her, to be near her, knowing that he had a small hand in relieving the nightmare they had just witnessed.

He had no way of knowing that what he did meant so much more to her than a mere moment of happiness.

Turning towards him, she looked down into his eyes, unflinching in the vulnerability of her stare, he understood fully how truly grateful she was, but there was something beyond that, something deeper she was trying to convey.

This moment between them stretched out for what seemed like an eternity, stirring emotions, thickening the air, what she wants is becoming more clear.

Approaching him, she gently nudges his knuckles with her bare knee, effectively causing him to lift his fingertips to rest against her soft skin.

Her subtle move is enough to awaken his body, recollecting every dream he's ever had about her, every obscene fantasy he's indulged in.

His pulse quickens, his black eyes sink into her, searching, almost pleading for her to grant him mercy.

It's clear that she has a goal in mind, a vision of what she wants, what she so desperately needs as she steps closer to him forcing his fingers to rise up the inside of her thigh.

His will is broken, shattered instantly as she whimpers when he reaches the elastic edge of her underwear.

The pleasure from the mere touch of his fingertips is beyond measure in it's intensity, it's painfully evident that she's wet already, damping her innocent white panties that he has caught a glimpse of as her legs shift wider for him.

The scene that is playing out before him is surreal, dreamlike, he's giving in, letting her dissolve his pain, as he surmises he is doing for her in return.

Somewhere in the back of his head there is a quiet insistent voice telling him to stop now, warning him of the consequences that are sure to follow if he continues on, but it's growing fainter by the second as she rolls her head back and reaches down to lace her fingers through his curls.

His stare is one of obsession, possession, an all consuming envelopment of the fevered need that is passing between them.

Crossing that pivotal line he can't hold back any longer.

They both gasp as he runs a single finger lightly along the seam of her drenched core.

Her voice rises teetering already along the cusp of an orgasm as he adds another finger to find an agonizingly slow teasing rhythm.

"W-why did you do all this for me Tate?"

His answer comes in a dark husky tone, knowing full well that she is aware of his feelings for her now.

"You know why."

Tate concentrates hard on her face, the flutter of her eyelashes, the furrow of her brow, her white teeth that are bearing down hard on her bottom lip.

He's desperate to rip the offending material from her, to sink into her, to taste her on the tip of his tongue, but he restrains himself, sensing that she's new to this, that this alone is something she's never experienced.

The notion that he is the first to make her come touches him deeply, he strives to make her see stars, to make it memorable.

Painfully hard now, he works her with delicate purposeful strokes, coaxing breathless moans as he finally gives in to her running the tips of his fingers over her clit in small tight circles, within seconds she's writhing and shaking above him.

It's the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever seen.

And then she's there, bending to him, pressing her mouth to his as his hand falls away.

The kiss is the very definition of passion, building with momentum with every passing second, until she suddenly, without warning pulls away, backing herself against the wall.

Standing across the room her eyes follow sounds that begin to emerge as guests start to find their way into the house.

"I'd like to sleep in here tonight, if that's alright."

Nodding, after a long uncomfortable pause, Tate stands on shaky legs as reality comes flooding in like ice water in his veins.

"Good night Tate."

Unanswered questions of where this leaves them lingers heavily in the air, needing to feel her one last time he touches her hand gently, caressing his thumb along her long delicate fingers before closing the door behind him.

"Good night Violet."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_**DinahRay, idkwhattoowrite, Cali Toretto, Sarah v, CMLangdon, rocklobstahh, and guests.. thank you!**_

Thunder rolled across the sky, crashing down upon him as he paced his room replaying the night of the wedding over and over in his mind.

He tried to piece it all together, how they arrived at that point, his hand beneath her dress, his fingertips dancing along the inside of her thigh, the urgency of her stare baring down on him begging for him to take her to another place, somewhere she's never been.

Tate could still feel her through the barrier of wet cotton, the most intimate part of her, that up until now had never been touched, pulsating helplessly under his command, her slender body beautifully convulsing, shaky lips parting, breathing out his name.

Her shocked wide eyed expression, her pale skin flushing pink across her cheeks as she came with an intensity he had never before witnessed.

Sliding down his wall he lowered his head in his hands as his knees drew up tight to his chest.

He fucked up, he knew it, he put them both in an impossible position that most likely would end with her far away at some overseas boarding school.

Moments before untouched, innocent, he felt her confusion when it was over, he should've stopped it before it began, he should've done a lot of things.

Lightning streaked along the treeline just outside his window, the air was charged making him restless, anxious, but all he could do was rest his head against the vent, and wait.

She was late tonight, her practice time started hours ago, he lived for it, to hear her play, it made him feel close to her, he needed it, like air to his lungs.

Pulling at his sweater, twisting the sleeves over his fists, his eyes slid shut when he finally heard her begin.

Tate could see it in his minds eye, her violin, an extension of her heart, tucked beneath her chin lovingly, cradled within her virginal body that he craved to the point of true agony.

Slowly, hauntingly, she manipulated her instrument, releasing emotions of such longing, and loss.

Tempted, he forced himself to hold back as her feelings poured out working their way inside him.

Pressing his cheek to the antique grate, he hooked his fingers around cold wrought iron, breathing out shakily as her passionate notes called out to him.

Sad, forsaken, she spoke to him through wood and strings reaching him in ways that no human words ever had.

Guilt fell heavy upon his shoulders, but he just couldn't find the words.

_'I'm sorry Violet, but we can't be together, ever again, it's not safe, it's not… right.'_

It felt like a lie, because it was all he wanted, all he dreamed about, the very thought of anyone even touching her was beyond his comprehension.

Gripping his blonde waves tight he knew there was no coming back after you've truly fallen.

It was almost a week since he had touched her, since that kiss, he barely spoke to her, memorizing her schedule so he could always be with her, but never be seen.

It was deceitful, unfair, but he didn't trust himself, not with the way she looked at him, not after having a taste, not knowing how he could make her feel, the heights of pleasure he could bring her.

He'd listen to her at night, whispering into the vent, breathing out his name, only he shut her out, leaving her to question herself.

Tate was both pushing her away and keeping her close, it was cruel, selfish, but he couldn't help himself, the alternative, what he yearned to do was forbidden, worse yet beyond his control.

So there he was, everyday, outside her school, listening in on her tutor sessions, just out of sight, watching her, he'd wait behind their bedroom wall that separated them, forcing himself to stay away, all the while desperate to be as close as possible.

He couldn't hold off telling her for much longer, knowing he was hurting her was killing him.

Then the time finally came, with his mother and Ben leaving for the weekend for a short honeymoon, they'd have the privacy they needed.

The only thing that was saving him, was knowing that he'd kept his promise to find out what happened with her mother, why she left to go back to Boston without her.

As soon as Ben and Constance left that morning he made his way to his office.

An open window and an alarm code that matched Violet's birthday made it easy, what he found not only confirmed her fears, but would be the proof she needed that her mother never wanted to leave her, that she didn't abandon her.

He would confront her later that night, he'd sit her down and show her the hospital forms he copied concerning her mother, then maybe she'd understand why it was more than wrong for them to be together, that with Ben as her father, it could be downright dangerous.

On the opposite side of the wall Violet had her plans also, she had reached the end of her patience with him, tonight she would force him to answer for his actions, tonight she would find out the truth.

Tormented, her somber melody became frenzied, she was close, her back to the wall, she wanted him to hear, she knew he had been there on the other side, every night listening, he never fooled her, not at school, not anywhere she went.

Violet always felt him, like a faint whisper behind her ear, or a shadow out of the corner of her eye, she could sense his presence, those black eyes watching her.

She had enough, tonight she'd lure him in, tonight she'd get the answers she deserved.

His eyes drifted shut as he pressed his hand against the wall listening to her bow violate her strings sinfully, manipulating them until they sang for her, just as he had done to her that night.

Violet played arduously against the backdrop of the thunderous night sky with escalating fervor, her bow striking each string with such force the hairs split away waving restlessly in the air as she continued on refusing to stop until she had broken him.

He felt it coming through, he knew it was for him, she was seducing him, enticing him closer with each impassioned note.

There would be no submissive shy girl requesting his attention, she was demanding to be heard tonight.

It was working, helplessly he began to envision her there, standing over him once again.

So beautiful, looking down at him, breathlessly calling out his name.

Desperate for some relief his hand drifted down to release the buckle from his belt, fingers curved around his hard cock, stroking himself slowly, letting himself disappear into the fantasy that she was there with him.

Forceful winds began to pick up outside as the storm raged on, wind chimes that lined the porch next door swung wildly clanging together adding to the eerie erotic piece that was pouring out from her.

The back of his blonde head hit the wall as he sped up, feeding off the vibrations of her enchanting music that poured over him flaming every part of his body as his imagination ran wild.

_'Violet… please.'_

Rain surged sideways violently pounding the pane of his window, lightning flashed blinding white light behind his closed eyelids repeatedly as deafening thunder shook the house.

Grunting softly he was lost as he imagined her tiny hand wrapped around him stroking him with the intensity equal to that of her instrument.

He could feel her slender hips as she straddled him, rocking hard against him, her forehead pressed to his, her clever eyes watching amused by the strangled hold she had over him.

And make no mistake about it, she did have him, he was hers, even if he didn't yet believe it himself.

Beginning to shake, teetering on the edge, he suddenly heard a roarous crash coming from her bedroom pulling him out from his fantasy.

Stumbling to his feet he burst through her door, once again dangerously ill prepared for the vision that was before him.

Standing, shivering in nothing but a white tank top and pink cotton panties, her violin in one hand down by her side resting against her thigh, and there lying on the floor by her bare feet her frayed bow that had slipped from her fingers.

He couldn't tear his eyes away, her windswept hair was wild around her slender shoulders, the swell of her small pale breasts transparent through her damp top.

Trying to catch his breath his gaze fell further as her shirt rose up on one side exposing her flat stomach peppered with rain drops, lingering there he forged further to her cotton pink panties that tied into tiny bows on the curve of her hips.

_'Fuck.'_

Finding her fierce whiskey glazed stare once again he struggled to speak.

Panting, chest heaving, sweat damping the ends of his flaxen waves, his green and black striped sweater hid the evidence, but she knew she reached him.

Hollowing wind called out like an animal inside her smashed window, a broken limb shook back and forth covering her floor with shattered glass and bright green leaves.

His voice lowered with concern as she remained silent.

"Violet, are you hurt?"

The irony of his question wasn't lost to either of them.

Oblivious to the damage all around her she whispered softly, breaking him.

"I waited for you… everyday, since that night... I waited for you to come to me."

It was that moment that he realized the depths of the pain he had caused her.

Keeping her eyes locked on him, she laid her violin on the bed waiting for him to respond, refusing to let him go without an answer.

Proving her determination she began walking towards him daring him to speak, unflinching as her bare feet crushed the broken glass covering the floor.

"No! Violet wait!"

Running towards her he lifted her in his arms, cradling her close to his chest while blood dripped from the bottom of her feet.

"Jesus Violet, you're bleeding."

Laying her on his bed, his breath was physically sucked from his lungs at the sight of her half naked, wet from the rain, her emotion filled eyes searching for answers.

"D-Don't move, I have to get that glass out."

Rushing to the bathroom, he held onto the sink as his knees began to buckle.

Lifting his eyes, he glared at his reflection in the mirror.

_'Get your fucking shit together.'_

Splashing cold water on his face, he reached for the first aide kit before stepping back into his room.

Carefully he rested each foot on his lap, pulling out tiny shards of glass from her tender skin.

"Why have you been avoiding me Tate?"

Her voice fell to a whisper causing him to halt what he was doing.

"Do you regret what happened between us?"

Dabbing the antiseptic on a cotton ball, he kept his focus on the cuts on her feet, evading her question, afraid of his response.

"This is going to sting."

Jerking her foot out of his hand, she snapped at him, refusing to be ignored.

"I asked you a question, do you regret - "

"_No_."

His answer came swiftly, harsher than he intended.

"Then why?"

Pulling her foot back, he continued to clean her cuts, before reaching for some bandages to wrap her feet.

"That piece you were playing, it was really beautiful… what was it called?"

"Vivaldi, summer, from the four seasons. Do you always change the subject when you're uncomfortable Tate?"

Sighing, he shook his head at her fearless pretty mouth.

"Do you always say exactly what's on your mind?"

"Does it bother you?"

Grabbing a blanket he made his way to the door.

"No, but it's late, sleep in my bed tonight until I can fix your window, tomorrow we'll talk I promise."

Leaning up, bracing herself on her elbows, she called out to him.

"Wait."

Resting his back against the wall, he felt his pulse race the closer she came.

Placing her hand on his chest she rose up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"I know."

His body tensed as her fingertips drifted down beneath the hem of his sweater to skim across the bare skin of his stomach.

"What exactly do you think you know Violet?"

His attempt at controlling the situation was pathetic at best as his voice faltered under her touch.

Her soft lips drifted along his neck just as a brilliant white light filled the room immediately followed by the roar of thunder as all the lights flickered before cutting off completely.

"I know you follow me, I can hear you behind the wall, through the vent, listening, always there."

Grabbing her hand, pulling it away from him, he held it down by her side, tight by her wrist.

"Violet, _please..._ don't."

Moving between his legs so her body was flush against him, he was no longer able to hide just how badly he wanted her.

"Why are you lying to me, to _yourself_… why are you so scared."

And then it happened, the speech that he had rehearsed a thousand times forgotten, in it's place his true feelings, falling from his lips as if he had no choice.

"I'm not scared… I'm terrified, I've never felt this way before, never cared, never needed to be with anyone so bad… you have no idea… "

Shaking her hand loose from his grip, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her mouth close to his, balancing on her toes to whisper softly, urging him on.

"Don't stop."

"We have to, we _have_ to stop Violet."

Sliding her body up along his strained erection, she hovered over his mouth, teasing him with barely there kisses as she breathlessly spoke.

"I don't think I can."

With that his resolve was broken.

The storm once again bared its teeth as lightning engulfed the room in white flashes chased by booming thunder.

Sliding his hands around her bare waist, he quickly switched their position, roughly backing her against the wall.

Staring down at her as torrential rain beat heavily on his window pane, he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip.

"Violet, if we're caught - "

"We'll be careful."

"But if we are - "

"Tate..."

Taking his hand she slid it under her tank top, curving his fingers over her breast to feel her rapidly beating heart.

"...it's too late, don't you see... I'm already yours."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Alexis, DinahRay, satisfied bitch, CM Langdon, FreeSpirit91, Cali Toretto, gvozzdika, and guests... thank you so so much! :) _**

Tate felt her fluttering heart beneath his hand, her skin was soft like the velvet petals of a rose, her pointed nipple pressed with urgency under the pad of his thumb, striking a desire in him never before felt.

Violet stared directly, boldly up into the blackest of eyes, revelling in the shock of her actions still washing over him in waves, evident in the trembling of his gentle touch.

She was a walking, breathing, contradiction; fearless in gesture, daring with fevered curiosity, simultaneously expressing a raw veiled vulnerability of an innocent braving uncharted waters for the very first time.

The precious responsibility of this moment hammered right alongside the driving barely restrained need to ravage her beyond all conceivable expectations as only Tate could, leaving her changed forever.

The tenuous pause of this moral conflict only added to the level of sexual tension that vibrated lively between them.

Tate had already crossed the line between what was deemed decent when he stroked her to completion on the night of the wedding, the argument within himself won with that singular point realizing that even if it were possible, there was no undoing what had already been done.

The only thing left to be determined was how far to take her in this very precarious moment knowing how truly inexperienced she was.

Slowly, gently, rolling her nipple back and forth, he contemplated carefully if this blatant aggressive move was a bluff to challenge him after his painful rejection all week, or if she was really ready to take this as far as it could go.

The truth was, if she were any other girl, he would have banged her hard and fast already leaving him to weave an excuse as to why he must leave, feeling already bored and disengaged.

Tate's ability to snare the opposite sex came easily, it was the distance he always felt afterwards, the vast hollow feeling of nothingness, a total lack of a connection or understanding between the darkness and complexities that formed him and the empty shallow female that was already forgotten.

This was far from one sided, he hardly fit the trendy California surfer, or the popular school jock, the two basic types that most girls wanted.

Once past his beautiful looks, and all too easy charm, no girl understood, nor wanted the quiet pensive, deeply sensitive, Byron poem enthusiast with thoughts as dark as a past that lived under the tyrannical rule of mother who was born with a madness for control and abuse.

Only in Violet had he found his match, different in all ways mysterious and unique she held qualities that most people would deem as odd, but he knew better, he saw what was behind the fierceness of her biting words that hissed with anger for all things fake and deceptive.

Her total lack of caring what other people thought of her, her braveness in the face of a clearly disturbed if not narcissistic psychotic father was enough to summon his full on attention.

Their shared emotional trauma connected them instantly, the loss of his father and her mother, bonded them in a way that few others would or could understand, but it went far beyond that, far past her obvious wit and intelligence or aptitude to excel at everything from the most complicated moving violin piece, to mastering the language of Latin she was forced to learn due to her transfer to a strict Catholic high school she loathed.

She was profoundly passionate in every way, exceptionally beautiful, possessing a sexuality that was paralyzing, walking a line of blatant seduction and the purity of innocent intention.

Violet was a stunning paradox of which he had become obsessed with, a vision of all that he wanted, but could never have, a brutal lesson in being mindful what you wish for because nothing or no one could take her from him now.

With vivid understanding of the danger he was placing them both in, Tate lowered his mouth pressing it lightly to her ear.

His whisper hovered along the edges of all that she had dreamed sex with him to be.

Deeply intimate, deviant in tone, intense in the depths of his devotion, the darkness of the abyss of his desire that she had set free.

"You have me Violet, I am yours… this, I believe now, you understood from the beginning, but I want to say it, I need you to hear it from me, so you know it's real, and never something you come to doubt in any way."

His continuous caress of her hard peak coupled with the sultry serious tone of his voice had her shaking, shivering, unsure of just what to do now that the tables had been turned.

Thoughts of any kind had quickly vanished as he lifted her effortlessly placing her on the nearest flat surface unable to withstand another second of waiting for what he had been craving.

Gasping with surprise, Violet searched for the edge of his desk for balance as he kissed her hard while ripping those pretty little bows from the curve of her hips.

Laying her down along the hard surface he stepped with purpose, void of all guilt between her shaky thighs.

Groaning against her mouth as he peered down upon her, he heard the rumblings of thunder in the distance as the storm passed leaving soft remnants of raindrops tapping lightly on his window.

Hovering over her lips he panted heavily, driven by the knowledge that she had no idea what was about to happen, how this was only the first of firsts in his quest to take her.

"Remember Violet, we're all alone, there's no one… don't hold back, I want to hear you… I need to … "

Her mind spun trying to grasp the cryptic meaning of his words as his voice faded into muffled nonsensical ramblings as he lifted his sweater over his head.

Transfixed on his beautiful pale skin, his tone slender hard body poised over her, Violet let her head fall back upon the hard wood of his desk, oblivious as to what was about to happen.

She felt the soft brush of the tips of his curls first as he drifted down between her breasts, his mouth barely skimming her skin, his hands gently pulling, rolling her nipples until fingers were replaced with his warm mouth.

Her harsh breaths quickly turned into loud moans as his tongue played with her, faintly kissing, flicking her into a state causing her to dig her nails into the edge of his desk indenting the finish.

"Tate… Tate… _please_."

She was starting to feel that delicious coil in her belly tightening, she wanted him to touch her like before, to make her come like that night.

Cool air replaced his presence giving her a chance to catch her breath as she impatiently waited to feel the soft touch of his hand without the barrier of her panties.

It was then that she heard it, an eerie scraping sound of the legs of his chair being dragged along the wood floor.

Staring up at the ceiling her body tensed, bathed in darkness she could only hear him, disoriented she was lost as to where he was or what was happening.

"Tate?"

Without warning she was pulled to the edge of the desk, her thighs hung for a moment before being slung over his shoulders.

She felt his hands brace against her hips before sliding beneath her bare ass, then he was there, his warm breath drifting over her, feasting upon the prize he'd been dreaming of.

Feeling awkwardly exposed, she was suddenly nervous, she tried to struggle, to move away, but was held firmly.

"Wait, Tate… no, no - "

_"Yes."_

Lifting her in the air he took one long decadent lick through her soaked slit before breathing out slowly, forcing himself to calm down.

His patience was quickly rewarded as his black eyes flashed up towards her quivering body.

A long drawn out soft whimper escaped her lips, her back bowed off his desk, edging her pussy closer to him in a silent plea for more.

His lips curved upwards as he kissed her wet core, groaning himself unable to hold back, he flicked his firm tongue slowly just four times against her clit before she was coming hard, almost violently, clenching her thighs tight, bucking against his eager mouth.

Leaving all embarrassment behind, her fingers curled around his blonde waves as she cried out his name with a force that he would never forget.

Dazed, boneless, she found herself once again in his arms, close to his bare chest, listening to the impossibly fast thumping beat of his heart.

Sleepily she whispered trying to force her tired eyes open as she nuzzled sweetly into his neck.

"What about you? I haven't... I want - "

"Shh, it's alright, it's been a long night, you should rest now."

Tenderly he laid her in his bed, covering her in his blankets, placing a soft kiss on her cheek as she drifted off.

Rasping possessively to her ear, he knelt by the bed, listening to the gentle rain outside his window as she slept.

"You may taste like an angel, but you cum like the devil... I knew you were meant for me Violet."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**_ DinahRay :), CM Langdon (here you go sweetie ;) ), Taintednerve, Cali Toretto, gvozzdika, Anna and guests... thank you so so much! :) _**

Cruely awakened from the heavenly warmth of her body curved snug within his, Tate heard a car door slam and the unmistakable cringe worthy tone of his mother's voice.

His arms tightened around the soft skin of her belly, his mouth pressed nervously against her ear, terrified that this would all be over before it even began.

"Violet, you need to wake up… they're home…. our parent's, they're in the driveway."

Nuzzled sleepily backing up closer to him, hazy, still in a dreamlike state, Violet sighed.

"Not funny Tate."

Jumping out of his bed as he heard the front door whip open and the sound of luggage being thrown on the floor he grabbed a tee shirt pulling it over his head.

Whispering harshly, kneeling beside the bed, he lifted her hair tucking it behind her ear, making sure to get their stories straight.

"Violet I'm serious! Listen to me, you slept in my bed because of the broken window in your room, I slept on the couch downstairs."

Her eyes widened as she heard Constance's heels hitting each step, coming that much closer to them knowing that her father was probably not far behind.

"Oh my god, Tate… you need to get out of here."

Nodding he went for the door only to turn back feeling his stomach turn from the loss of her already.

It was obvious that the feeling was mutual, she gave him a knowing look, an emotional gaze that encapsulated all that was left unsaid the night before, all the feelings that had yet to be disclosed, but were clearly there between them, a tangible bond that wove like vines within them.

Running towards her, unable to help himself, he pressed his lips to her ear while gliding his fingers through her mussed golden hair to cup her jaw.

"Don't worry, I'll make this work, have faith in me Violet."

Kissing her hard, he broke away bolting out the door, just as his mother turned the corner into the hallway to find him breathless awkwardly staring back at her.

"Const- I-I mean mom, what happened? I thought you weren't coming back until late tonight."

Looking over her shoulder, making sure Ben wasn't in earshot she leaned into Tate to whisper.

"That was the plan, that was until one of the truly disturbed wack jobs Ben is treating, decided to play slice and dice with her wrists last night, honestly don't they have people to step in and pick up the slack when this sort of thing happens? It was our goddamn honeymoon for christ sake!"

Breathing out slowly, trying to relax, he leaned up against the wall, finding it not at all unusual that Constance would consider a suicide attempt to be a blatant selfish act to ruin her plans.

"Mom, I think she'll probably respond to her own doctor better than a stranger. I think it's different than a medical situation where just anyone can take his place."

Waving her hand in the air, dismissing his logic, she continued to complain.

"Oh please they most likely have her drugged up to high heaven by now, besides if you ask me all that mumbo jumbo head shrinker bull crap is for the weak of mind. Only the strong survive this world Tate, as it should be. Really, if she was so determined to leave, to end her pathetic existence, they should've just let to poor girl go."

Closing his eyes, not utterly surprised at her unspeakably heartless comment, Tate decide to forgo his usual backhanded remark, just relieved that they weren't caught in bed together.

"Not to change the subject mom, but we had a pretty bad storm here last night, a branch broke through Violet's bedroom window. She's asleep in my room, that window has to be replaced, I'll clean up the glass later."

Bracing the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically, she bellowed loudly down to Ben who was trying to talk to a psychiatric nurse at the hospital.

"Ben darling, I need you up here! There's been some mishap with a very unruly tree branch and your daughter's window apparently, and I'm far too drained from driving all night to deal with it."

Brushing past Tate she muttered under breath how little she could tolerate these days, that it was just all too much.

"I need to rest myself Tate, I'm feeling quite peaked from that blasted ride. Please fill Ben in on whatever repairs are needed before he runs off to that dismal hospital for the rest of the day."

Resting his palm against the door that was between him and the girl that his world now revolved around, he breathed out shakily.

"Sure Constance."

**vTv**

Staying purposely away from each other all day, secretly worried that Constance would pick up on the unmistakable sparks between them, Tate knew he had to plan something so that he could talk to Violet alone.

Slipping a note under her door, where she had been studying most of the day, he took off to the kitchen to face his mother.

_**Violet **_

_**I want to take you somewhere special tonight**_

_**dress warm**_

_**meet me at my car in fifteen**_

Turning the corner, he took a deep breath trying to settle his nerves.

"Ben still not home?"

Rolling her eyes Constance poured a healthy glass of Vodka before lightening up a cigarette.

"We are not discussing that man right now, Ben and I are at an impasse of sorts you could say."

Leaning against the wall noticing the ceiling of brilliant stars covering the night sky out the window, he anxiously tried to speed up their conversation.

"You knew you were marrying a doctor, this can't be that much of a shock to you that he's going to be needed at work, that there would be emergencies. "

Slamming her fist on the table, she glared up at him, making the unmistakable point that he had crossed a line.

**"He is needed here!** He's been with that lost cause all damn day, he needs to realize that he is a husband now, **my** husband. I didn't get married so I could spend every night pinning the lonely hours away like some pathetic spinster."

Backing off Tate nodded agreeing in order to get away from her sooner.

"Listen, Violet needs a ride to the library. She's meeting a study group for that Latin class she's taking."

Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, Constance clenched her jaw at just the implication that she might be needed to help her new step daughter.

"Tate, please be a dear and drive her, I'm afraid I've indulged in one too many spirits to get behind the wheel tonight."

Nodding casually he let his keys fall from his palm showing her that he was already on it.

"No problem there's a movie playing down the street, I'll drop her off and pick her up afterwards, she'll be home by nine not to worry."

**vTv**

Night fell over the once bright sunny day, leaving the image of her standing, waiting, eyes wide with anticipation lit by the luminous moon to be truly magical.

"Hurry, get in in case your dad gets home."

Sliding into the black muscle car she did her best to hold back the sheer excitement of just being close to him again.

Giving her a slight smile, he seemed almost stoic as he took off hastily towards his destination, knowing that he had to tell her about her mother.

Rolling down the window she couldn't help herself from holding her hand out the window to feel the sensation of the warm wind racing through her fingers.

"What kind of car is this? I like it."

Keeping his eyes focused on the horizon ahead of him, Tate became more pensive as the subject turned towards his past.

"Yeah, it's a nineteen sixty five Mustang, it was my dad's … it was his baby, he spent every chance he could restoring it. It drove Constance crazy having it on blocks in the driveway for all those years, she called it his hideous redneck eyesore. She even threatened to have it towed a bunch of times when she was really mad at him, but I think she knew that would be the last straw."

Treading carefully along this difficult subject she ran her fingertips over the shiny black interior as the dashboard lights reflected against her whiskey eyes.

"He gave it to you?"

Becoming very quiet for several seconds Tate sighed as he roughly shifted gears.

"He left it behind, I'm not sure if it was a conscious thought, that he actually wanted me to have it, or if he was just in a rush to leave and didn't take it."

Sweeping her hand over his as he clung to the gear shift, she laced her fingers through his tenderly.

"Do you mind if I ask how long ago that he left?"

Tensing his body, his speed picked up as he raced down darkened windy sideroads clearly headed to a specific place now.

"It was eight months ago, I was out all night… when I got home he was just … _gone_. No explanation, no note, he left all his clothes, everything he owned. He just had enough I guess."

Holding his hand tighter, she moved as close as the bucket seats would allow feeling his loss.

"Your mother doesn't know why he left?"

Pulling into the parking lot of the beach, he shut off the car to stare out at the crashing waves visible from the brightly lit night sky.

His voice grew dark, distant, as he relived that morning all over again in his mind's eye.

"It was strange, I mean Constance isn't your typical mother, but the way she was acting was weird even for her."

Turning towards him, she pulled his hand into her lap, forcing him to face her.

"What do you mean weird?"

A sadness overtook his entire demeanor as he leaned up against the side of the seat.

"She was all dressed up, like she was going to a wedding or something, but her shoes didn't match her gown, they didn't even match each other come to think of it. Her makeup was way too heavy and smudged, her hair was all over the place, teased up in the back and flat on the sides. I found her like that sitting on the basement stairs. She was smoking a cigarette and drinking Vodka straight from the bottle."

Feeling horrible, Violet knew she probably should stop questioning him, but she just had to know.

"What did she say to you?"

Shrugging Tate shook his head as if trying to block out the image.

"She said that they had gotten into some sort of fight the night before, and she hadn't seen him since. That she just knew he wasn't coming back and the sooner I accepted that the better off I'd be. Then she locked herself in her bedroom for the next week. I could hear her crying, wailing on day and night, there was nothing I could do. After that week was over she emerged from her room as if nothing had happened."

Whispering softly Violet pushed a little further.

"Did you consider going to the police, or calling hospitals in case he was in an accident or something? I mean why would he just leave without talking to you, or taking any of his stuff."

Finally lifting his dark eyes to capture her gaze, she could see he was quietly letting her know that this was enough for one night.

"She said that he always strayed from their marriage, so she was sure that he had run off with another woman. Anyway I did call hospitals, I called the people he worked with, his friends, everyone I knew, but there was nothing, no explanation. She told me that she spoke to the police, and they found that a substantial amount of money was withdrawn from their savings account, which added to the theory that he had run off I guess."

Needing to change the subject, Tate grabbed a blanket from the backseat and nodded towards the ocean.

"Come on, there's something I want to show you."

**vTv**

"Well look who decided to come home, tell me, do you get paid for all your personal time away holding the hand of the feeble minded during a crisis?"

Laying his leather satchel on the Kitchen counter, Ben pulled Constance to her feet and held her tight.

"Did Hal, my handyman come by and fix Violet's window?"

Taking another large sip of alcohol, Constance nodded, while actively avoiding his affections.

"Darling, listen I apologize for not being here, especially for cutting our honeymoon short, but you have to understand, it's the nature of the business. I have such a large practice because my patients and their families know I am dedicated."

Pulling her face away as he tried to kiss her, Constance felt the need to punish him, although the words 'large practice' didn't go unnoticed, bills needed to be paid, and she deserved to be kept in the manner she had grown accustomed to.

Taking her drink from her hand, Ben smiled slyly, "Hmm, well maybe this will help, I picked up a little wedding present for my new bride on the way home, that's why I'm so late. It's being delivered tomorrow."

Reaching in his bag he pulled out a catalogue with a shiny new picture of a brand new silver Mercedes Benz E-Class luxury sedan.

Constance nearly lost her breath at such a sight. "My dear lord, you can't be serious? Oh Benjaman! It's so elegant, it's just simply divine, I can't believe you did this, you sweet, sweet man of mine!"

Ben was suddenly forgiven as she showered him with affection that led to her taking his hand to lead him upstairs.

Laughter echoed throughout the house as they approached the top of the steps.

Constance had already removed his jacket and tie and was beginning to work on his belt when he stopped her suddenly while looking through his emails on his phone before turning it to vibrate.

"Hold on."

Scrolling down, reading an email sent by, Gabe, Violet's Latin tutor, Ben became infuriated.

**"Violet!** Violet, I need to speak to you immediately!"

Buzzed from the Vodka, Constance slurred her words slightly explaining how Tate had taken her to her Latin study group at the library.

"_Really_? Well that's interesting considering that this email is to inform me that her tutor has been having problems with her. Evidently she's lacking in her concentration and commitment to their last several sessions. Her last test score was an eighty five, well that just inexcusable, I'm calling him immediately."

Irritated at his sudden shift of focus from her to Violet, Constance grabbed his phone away.

"She's at a study group as we speak, why don't you wait till she gets home and talk to her then, I do believe we were right in the middle of something."

Shaking his head, he took his phone back to call her tutor. "This will just take a moment, I can't just let this go."

Rage covered his face as he leaned against the wall after hanging up with Gabe.

"She lied, there is no Latin study group."

Confused Constance pointed to Tate's room. "No, that can't be, Tate drove her to the library himself, he's picking her up after a movie. He promised to have her home by her curfew."

"Well either they're both lying, or she tricked him into dropping her off so she could sneak off somewhere else, either way there will be hell to pay when she walks in that door tonight!"

Leaning against the wall watching him call her phone again and again only to watch it go straight to vmail, Constance was beginning to lose her patience.

"She obviously shut her phone off, come on sweetheart, let's do what we came up here to do, I'm more than ready to show my appreciation for that generous wedding gift, and _you_ my love have some making up to do in the boudoir department, we are newlyweds still, we should be acting accordingly… don't you think?"

Stewing Ben glared at Violet's door, "I'm sorry Constance, but I can't even think straight right now, I'm just not in the right frame of mind for romance. I'll be downstairs waiting for them to get home, you might as well get to bed, I won't be much company right now."

Madness ensued in Constance's mind, for there was only one person to blame for the unraveling of her night, and it wasn't Violet.

**vTv**

Tate held her tight as they huddled together watching the waves crash along the shore.

"I've been wanting to take you here since that first night."

Resting her head on his shoulder Violet stared out at the reflection of the moon cascading down onto the water.

"It's so peaceful here, so quiet… like it's somehow detached from the rest of the world."

Nodding Tate's voice became distant, thoughtful. "I'd come here when they argued… he really hated her, she was horrible to him, I don't blame him for leaving. I always wished I could."

Gazing up at him with big emotional eyes reflecting the stars that blanketed the sky, she whispered breathily.

"Do you still feel that way? Do you still wish you could leave?"

Cupping her cheek he eased her down on the blanket to gently graze her cheek with the back of his hand.

"No, you've changed everything, I could never be away from you Violet."

Settling between thighs covered by purple tights, Tate kissed her slowly and thoroughly.

The files about her mother were in the backseat, the courage to show her lost within the softness of her body as she lifted up towards him eagerly.

His fingers curled into her honey tinged hair as she surprised him by running her hand over his hard erection strained beneath his jeans.

Now breathless, he lowered his face within the crook of her neck, trying hard to gain some control over his increasing need to take what he felt to be precious from her.

Feeling his hesitation, she slowly released the button and zipper of his jeans to fully touch him, wrapping her hand gently around his painfully hard cock.

Grabbing her wrist, he panted slowly pulling back to stare into her wide innocent eyes.

"Violet… I don't want to rush you, we don't have to - "

Resting her head back against the blanket, a serious expression reflected back at him, forcing Tate to pay attention, knowing that this wasn't something she was taking lightly.

"Do you care about me?"

Her hands slid beneath his hooded sweatshirt, under his tee shirt, smoothing around the bare skin of his low back.

Chills rushed through him from this simple act, it was evident within the way she touched him that he was special to her, important in ways that he never felt before.

"Of course I care, I think you know it's so more than that. I think you've known since the beginning."

Pulling him down flush against her, she ran her fingers up the back of his unruly blonde hair, drawing him close to her mouth.

"I need to feel you inside me, _please_ Tate, I'm ready… only for you, always for you."

Struck hard by her words of devotion, it triggered something unrestrained, something made of passion, and want, a longing for an end to all the misery and pain that had followed him since he was a child.

She was his answer to everything, his saving grace, a sublime miracle he never saw coming.

Latching onto her neck, groaning softly, his entire body shivered as he tore at her tights ripping them from her pale skin, until she was stripped from the waist down.

He worked his jeans and boxers down his thighs, quickly removing the clasp to her bra.

His searing mouth sucked her rosy nipple, while his hand skimmed down beneath her bottom tilting her up towards him, leading himself towards her entrance he stopped suddenly to look into her eyes.

Forcing himself to slow down, he began to rock through her, sliding his cock through her wet slit, skimming across her clit with each controlled thrust.

Her breathing became erratic, halting, as her eyes flew upwards to the night sky.

Long eyelashes fluttered, she clawed at the sand beneath the blanket as he drove her to completion at an agonizingly slow pace.

Her body stiffened, then jerked hard, strained whimpers and moans mixed with the crashing waves filled the air as he slid inside her with delicate intention.

Gasping, feeling her warm walls tighten around him, he knew he couldn't hold on for very long.

A muffled cry expelled from his mouth as he buried his face inside her sweater doing everything he could to keep from hurting her.

His jaw clenched as he felt her thrust up hard wrapping her legs around his thighs.

"Oh god..._Violet._"

It was a warning, but one that wasn't needed as she brought her mouth to his ear to beg for more.

Rising up on his elbows to fully see her expression, to know he wasn't hurting her, he began to move harder, rocking faster, stirring emotions within them both they never knew was possible.

Love was evident between them, it was beyond words what they were feeling, exceeding any known description.

Sweeping his lips along her neck as her head fell back, he whispered her name again and again.

His fingers dug beneath her hips leaving what would be tiny bruises behind tomorrow, but tomorrow seemed like an eternity away, there was only right now, this precious moment.

Finding her mouth, he kissed her feeling himself begin to fall.

Capturing her wondrous gaze he mouthed words that never in his life did he fully understand till now.

_"I love you."_

Pounding hard now inside her, he came fiercely, knowing instantly, without doubt or care to his own well being that nothing on this Earth mattered more than her happiness.

For what seemed like forever, she laid her head on his chest wrapped up in his arms covered in a blanket, seemingly protected from the world.

It was well after midnight when Tate suddenly woke, panicked, staring frozen at the time, and the twenty missed calls on his cell from his mother and Ben.

**vTv**

Pulling into the driveway of the well lit house, Tate went over their story again with Violet.

"You're sure you have it? I picked you up from the library and insisted on taking you to a party, you wanted to go home, but I told you it would just be for a little while. I lost track of time and you fell asleep. My mom will believe it, trust me I can handle them both, I don't want you getting in trouble."

Grabbing her hand as the front door swung open, Tate whispered softly. "It's going to be ok, I promise."

Tension was thick in the house as they walked in surrounded by Constance's cigarette smoke and the waves of anger vibrating off of Ben.

"Where the **hell** have you two been - "

Taking control of the situation, Tate took a deep breath to speak.

"Violet why don't you head up to bed, you must be exhausted. Let me explain - "

Plopping down on the couch, Violet crossed her arms in front of her defiantly.

"Sorry Tate, I'm not letting you take the blame for me - "

"Violet, no, wait - " Tate stared at her stunned, pleading with her not to do this, but was suddenly cut off by Ben.

"Don't bother Tate, we know that there was no such thing as a study group, in fact I got a very disturbing email from Gabe tonight explaining your behavior of late, so don't even try to deny the truth little girl!"

Scoffing Violet rolled her eyes, knowing exactly why Gabe sent that email, it had nothing to do with her progress with Latin, and everything to do with Tate hanging around their sessions. Gabe wanted her and it was obvious that she was interested in someone else, someone who suddenly was around her all the time.

This was getting worse by the second, but she wouldn't let Tate take the fall, she refused to stand by while he endured another beating from his mother.

"Listen, Tate did take me to the library to study, but you're right there was no group. I didn't want you knowing about that Latin grade, which you obviously are already aware of. Mr. Lustk is allowing me to do a project for bonus points to bump up my average. I was going to fix everything."

Waving her drink in the air Constance interrupted snarkily.

"Hmm, that still doesn't explain why you're both strolling in here at almost… _oh my…_ one in the morning!"

Tate once again tried to intervene, determined to take on the blame.

"That was all my fault - "

Standing quickly Violet stood in front of him, in doing so sand scattered to the floor, bring everyone's attention that Violet was without her usual tights under her long skirt.

"You were at the goddamn beach!"

Grabbing Violet by the arm, Tate tried again but failed as she talked over him.

"Listen, these past few months have been a nightmare! I needed to get away, to be with my friends, you have no idea what it's like to have your entire life uprooted! When Tate picked me up from the library I forced him to take me to this party at the beach, I lied to him, I told him I needed to get a book from one of my friends and then we could go home, that it would be just a second. I purposely lost him, he spent all this time looking for me. He didn't answer your calls because he felt responsible, he didn't want you to worry. This is all me, I'm sixteen, I'm allowed to screw up! Tate found me, I'm home safe, everything's fine."

Grinding his teeth Ben twisted her sweater from behind as he pushed her up the stairs.

"Oh everything is far from fine young lady. You are grounded for a month, you are not leaving this house, in fact Gabe will come_ here_ to tutor you from now on. Make no mistake about it Violet, this is_ far_ from over."

**vTv**

Violet laid awake in bed, waiting to hear Tate come into his room, terrified as to what Constance had done.

Finally she heard him stumble in, knocking over several things on his desk before falling into bed.

Running to the vent she pushed aside the dresser, hooking her fingers around the grate.

"Tate? Tate are you ok?"

Holding his side where Constance had cracked two of his ribs, he slid onto the floor to push his nightstand away from the wall.

Grimacing he breathed out, longing to hear her voice again, adamant about keeping the extent of his mother's severe beating from her.

"I'm fine… Violet, why did you do it? I never wanted this to come back on you, I just made things worse for you, I shouldn't have taken you there, it was too risky, too soon."

Closing her eyes she slid her fingers over her bare thighs, imaging their time on the beach, her first time.

"It was perfect, I can still feel your hands on me, your mouth on my skin."

His eyes flashed over to the files on her mother, and the truth he still had to tell her.

Knowing the pain it would bring her, he decided to keep Ben's dark secret a little while longer.

He wanted her to remember this night, as it was, beautiful, intense, the first of many nights he would spend making love to her.

"It was perfect for me too Violet."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**_ DinahRay :), CM Langdon, FreeSpirit91... thank you so so much! :) _**

The week after their magical night at the beach, their first night together, proved to be more challenging than either of them could have ever imagined.

All they wanted was to be together, sharing such intimacy had ignited something powerful, unrestrained, a desperate need that had to be met.

To sneak around was a necessary risk, a crucial evil.

They had met their match in each other, and in doing so gravely understood the perilous wonders, the true meaning of the most dangerous word in existence… _love_.

Tate found it impossible to concentrate on anything, his classes were spent staring out the window, fixated on the memory of her laid out before him, edged upon the crashing waves and roaring fire, giving herself to him so effortlessly, so entirely.

It was the singular most perfect moment of his life, if he believed in a heaven, he was sure there wouldn't have been anything closer to it than the feeling of being inside her.

Violet was his paradise, his nirvana, with her all his suffering and pain fell away.

Loving her, knowing her, was sacred to him, a gift that would never be taken for granted.

She was a part of him now, the other half of a broken heart, now made whole.

Both scorned in this life by the people who were supposed to care and love them above all others, there was an understanding shared that no other could perceive.

The tragedy that tore their lives apart, in turn brought them together, and nothing, no one, could ever tear them apart.

Staring out the window of his English Lit class, he heard his teacher off in the distance speaking lines from a poem, it wasn't his Bryon, but the last stanza, from John Clare entitled, First Love...

**_I never saw so sweet a face_**

**_As that I stood before._**

**_My heart has left its dwelling place_**

**_And can return no more._**

He understood without question the meaning behind those words, because it rang true from him as well.

He would never be the same, his heart could never go back, no matter the outcome she had forever changed him.

Twisting his sweater around his fist in frustration, struggling against the pain of being separated from her, he was unable to keep the thoughts of that night away any longer.

His heart raced remembering the perfection that was his Violet.

Her soft panting against his ear as he moved inside her, feeling her thighs tighten around him pulling him in, tangled together so close it was impossible to tell where his body started and hers ended.

Use of cell phones were strictly forbidden at her Catholic high school, a reason for suspension, but Violet who followed no one's rules did her best to hide her phone, texting him whenever she could, locked in janitor's closets, hidden in empty classrooms, in the stall of the bathroom.

The need to hear from him was something she found she couldn't live without, worse yet the longing to feel his skin, his mouth on hers, his touch that was like no other, was almost painful.

Their effort to keep apart out of fear of being caught seemed cowardly in face of such love.

They were both blamed for her disappearance Sunday night, both punished by their own perspective parents.

The beating Tate received that very night was severe, more damaging than he thought at the time, she had managed to break two of his ribs, among other wounds, leaving it impossible to run track for the rest of the month at least.

Pulling him down into the basement by his hair, far away from anyone in the house, she grabbed a pipe and did her best, but the words she spoke hurt far worse than the punishing blows.

Blaming him for his father departure, she went on about wasted potential, a cancer she could not cut out, a parasitic growth that was undeserved, that was now beginning to poison her 'new' family.

And that she would not have, 'lessons learned through pain, were better remembered', she said through gritted teeth and bulging veins.

Violet had her own share of parental correctness when Ben took her for a long drive, parking at LAX, hell bent on making a point.

"Hours, Violet… within hours you could be on one of those planes, headed to Switzerland, Denmark, or perhaps someplace that specializes in correcting the mind of a willful teenager through harsh punishments and rules that make Rikers Island look like a vacation spot."

Closing her eyes tight, Violet clung to the edge of her seat as his hand wandered across her thigh.

"It's been awhile since we've been … _close_ Violet, with all the stress you've placed upon my shoulders, I'm afraid my new wife may not be sufficient enough to calm my nerves, you've always served so well in that capacity. I miss our special time together."

Refusing to cry, Violet dug her nails into her palm until blood dripped onto his leather seats, jarring him out of his state of mind.

**"God damn it Violet!"**

Driving like a mad man home, worried about his Italian imported leather seats, Violet closed her eyes and thought of Tate, he was the only solace she had now, the only light in the darkness, even though, this was a secret she felt she had to keep from him.

She was ashamed, unable to face the abuse herself, Violet was terrified it would change the way he felt about her, which was something she couldn't risk.

**vTv**

Without track practice, Tate came home much earlier than usual in the hopes of sneaking Violet away from their busy parents.

Surprisingly, he turned the corner to find Gabe leaning over her closely at the dining room table during one of their tutoring sessions.

Their Latin study hour was switched to home, due to Violet's less than perfect grade, and her enforced grounding, due to their beach excursion Sunday night.

Never really noticing Gabe before, Tate was either at Track during their sessions or standing far enough outside her classroom at school to actually witness them working together.

It was clear that Tate had gone unseen, stepping back slightly feeling a little uneasy suddenly about the senior who was most definitely crossing over into her personal space.

He looked on with cautious curiosity, that soon turned into something else entirely.

"Very good Violet, I think you'll do great on tomorrow's quiz."

Clearly uncomfortable with the closeness of his body hovering over her, effectively caging her in with his palms set firmly on the table around her, she tapped her pencil on her notebook angrily.

"I think that's enough for today Gabe, I'm kinda of tired."

Peering at his watch, Gabe lowered his mouth to her ear, causing Tate's hand to curl into a tight fist by his side.

"We still have another fifteen minutes, I can't imagine your father would be pleased if he found out that your motivation was lacking Violet. He's been very concerned about your commitment to your academics. I'd hate to see how he'd react to another negative text from me, now why don't we go over this section one last time, just to make sure you've got it down."

Remembering her father's threat at the airport she reluctantly nodded cringing painfully at his presence so close to her.

Tate gripped the side of the doorway, his breath became ragged, his eyes lifeless, not unlike a shark, cold, black, deadly with intent.

Knowing he couldn't make a move in the house, not with Ben in his office and Constance watching her talk shows in her bedroom, but the time would come, and very soon, when Tate would teach Gabe a hard lesson about boundaries, and making threats to the girl he loved.

It was then that he heard Ben's voice coming from across the room.

"Gabe, how nice to see you, I just want to thank you for being so accommodating."

Giving a cheesy, kiss ass grin, Gabe backed away, taking the seat next to her.

"Absolutely no problem Dr. Harmon, I don't mind at all, actually I was thinking that, with your permission of course, I would take Violet out for dinner this weekend to celebrate her turn for the better, she's really been putting in the effort, she deserves to have some fun."

Smiling wide, Ben nodded. "Well, Violet _is_ grounded, but I think we can make an exception for a nice boy like yourself."

Infuriated that her father would dare accept a date on her behalf, Violet glared up at him as Gabe moved in to smooth his arm around her shoulder.

Unable to handle any more, Tate walked out into the dining room shocking everyone, clearly no one had a clue he had witnessed everything in the shadows of the darkened living room.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but Violet I answered your cell, I hope that's ok, it's your mom, she called several times, she needs to talk to you."

Their eyes connected, a knowing glance passed between them that wasn't lost on Gabe as he possessively looked on retreating his arm back from around her shoulder.

Sliding her phone deep in her pocket, Violet jumped up, excusing herself.

"I have to go Gabe, I'll see you tomorrow."

Running up the stairs, they both ducked into her room, while Tate locked the door behind them.

Turning to face him, breathless, a smile lifting along her naturally rose colored lips, causing him to cradle her face in his hands before quickly walking her back against the wall.

Kissing her hard, his fingertips slid softly down the side of her body, grazing her breasts, drifting down the curve of her ass pushing her swiftly to him.

She let out a whimper of a moan feeling his body already reacting to the closeness of her, it had been only days since they touched, but it felt like forever.

Breaking away from his eager mouth she smiled shaking her head in disbelief.

"You saved me, I had no idea you were there, I can't believe you did that."

Pressing his forehead to hers he tried to contain his anger for the boy downstairs.

"Violet, has he ever tried anything in the past, has he ever done anything to you?"

Lifting her eyes to meet his worried stare she nodded slowly.

Tate began to vibrate with rage already putting together a plan to scare him right out of Violet's existence.

Feeling his response so tangible in his body that was pressed hard to her, she smoothed her hands beneath his tee shirt over his warm skin, directing his attention towards his desire for her.

Hiding the horrible pain that came with each breath, he worried that she would notice, see his dark bruises.

"It's never been anything serious, nothing I couldn't handle on my own, he's just always been very flirty with me. I guess he became frustrated when I refused to play his little game and decided to just ask me out, I said no, and so now I think he's threatening me."

Moving his lips along her neck, desperate to taste her skin, he envisioned burying this guy in the ground as Violet tried to continue, vastly distracted by his beautiful mouth on her,

"My father loves him, he believes anything that Gabe tells him, he knows that he can manipulate him."

Sliding her eyes shut as Tate slipped his hands beneath her black leggings and powder blue cotton panties to cup her bare skin, her voice became breathy, barely there.

"I'm thinking he's using his influence over my dad, to force me to go out with him, but I can handle this, I just have to figure out what to do."

Sweeping his hand around her bare hip beneath her clothes, Tate slid two long fingers inside, causing her to slam the back of her head against the wall.

Brushing her clit as he pumped slowly, he quickly brought her teetering on the edge as his mouth lingered hotly to her ear.

"You don't have to do a thing, after tonight Gabe will never bother you again Violet."

Panting against her, he groaned quietly feeling her body begin to shiver with anticipation.

Whispering lightly he halted his hand. "I just need you to do one thing for me."

Gasping, desperate for him to continue she nodded furiously, "Anything!"

Circling her clit quickly, he began to flick her sensitive flesh as his tongue danced along the skin of her graceful neck.

"Cum for me."

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**_ DinahRay, CMLangdon, FreeSpirit91, gvozzdika... thank you so so much! :)_**

After slipping out of Violet's room, Tate ran quickly down the back stairs, into the basement, hearing Gabe and Ben talking, making plans, a date with Violet, dinner at a seaside restaurant.

"Violet loves lobster, just don't be put off by her… _gruff_ disposition, she has a way of asserting her mind, she can be a petulant child, but Gabe I assure you, she's like any other bitch... break her, and she'll be yours."

Hesitating at what he heard, Tate quietly stood at the bottom of the basement stairs, before rummaging through an old dresser, grabbing a locked box he kept hidden.

Taking what he needed, he popped the clutch, rolling the muscle car silently out of the driveway down the street past a few houses and waited.

Black eyes followed Gabe as he shook hands with Ben on the porch before jumping in his Lexus, making Tate wonder if money or power had a hand in Ben pushing his daughter into the arms of this asshole.

Not that it mattered, not anymore.

Driving a good distance behind him, Gabe led Tate straight to his house, a mansion located high in the hills.

Turning his headlights off, Tate slowed as Gabe turned into a long driveway disappearing through a high wrought iron gate.

Parking beneath some low hanging trees, Tate watched the mansion high on a hill, waiting until a light popped on the third level, far to the right, giving him an idea to which was Gabe's bedroom.

With his suspicions confirmed as Gabe walked by a window, all there was to do now was wait.

Easing down in his seat parting his legs slightly, Tate rested his blonde head as he let his mind drift back to her, always to her.

Their quick intimate moment shared in her bedroom, wasn't nearly enough, having a taste of being inside, left him in a constant state of need, a thirst that could never be quenched, no matter how many times he had his fill of her.

With time to spare as he waited for Gabe to fall asleep, he unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather out of it's confines.

His dark eyes slid shut slowly as he pictured her, back arched, nipples hard, rising to the sky as he licked wildly between her thighs.

Hissing as his hand curled around his hard cock, his head fell back, full lips parted, seeing her in his mind beg for him to fuck her.

Pumping away he raised his other hand to his lips, fingers that had just slipped inside her back at the house, swept along his mouth inundating him with her intoxicating scent, driving him to a state of near madness.

Groaning softly he imagined himself surging inside her, golden hair spilling out all around her like a halo, pale skin glistening under the moonlight, the taste of sea air mixed with her essence set a fire deep within him.

_"Violet."_

The husky whisper of her name filled the inside of his car continuously over and over as he stroked himself.

The muscles in his thighs contracted, his hard stomach tightened as his thumb swept over the head of his cock, picturing her little pink tongue slipping out from between her soft lips to taste him.

_"Fuck."_

Gritting rows of white teeth, he came with a vengeance as he slipped fingers coated with her in his mouth shuddering hard against the seat.

Slowly his eyes opened as he awoke from his fantasy, shivering slightly as sweat fell from the tips of his flaxen waves.

Breathless, he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm as he heard a text vibrate on his phone.

Lifting his cell from his pocket, a wicked grin edged along the side of his perfect mouth.

**Worried about you**

**forget him**

**it's not worth it**

**just come home**

**I miss u**

**let me show u just how much**

**V**

Her strategy to make him change his mind, only fueled his desire to go forth with his plan as he grabbed surgical gloves from beneath his seat.

**don't worry**

**trust me**

**be home soon**

**T**

She had no idea how deep his drive went to protect her, this was personal.

Grabbing what he needed from the passenger seat Tate quietly slipped out of his car.

Running fast up the winding long driveway, after easily scaling the high gate, he made his way to the side of the impressive Spanish style house.

Surmising what he had to work with, Tate began his climb, finding his footing on the lattice framework of a trellis covered in red roses, he moved quickly up the side of the house, jumping from there to a hanging branch and finally to small ledge outside of Gabe's bedroom.

**vTv**

Sighing looking at her cell, Violet knew there would be no stopping him, he was a force like she had never seen, the heaven to her hell.

Long after a forced lengthy talk with her father, she slipped out quietly, trying hard to ignore the grunting, and calling out of Ben's name from Constance's high pitched grating voice.

Making her way down the basement stairs, wanting to surprise him on his return, she sat on an upside down milk crate waiting for him.

Using the flashlight on her cell, she waved it around the cobwebbed stone walls realizing it was her first time down there.

Dark, dank, smelling of dead things and moth balls, littered with boxes and old toys, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, until something caught her eye.

Moving closer to small, faded writing etched on brick, on the far wall, down by the floor, she knelt on bare knees directing the flashlight so she could see better.

Brushing away dust covering the tiny letters, she fell back on her bent legs, as he heart clenched painfully.

**mommy**

**daddy**

**love**

**tate**

It was obviously carved by a child, knowing it had to be Tate, she pressed her hand next to his name, realizing he couldn't been more than five when he did this.

Running her fingertips over each letter carefully, she knew he had to have used a sharp knife as her fingers dipped deep in the indentations.

It was sad, a desperate wish from a lonely confused little boy.

Aiming the light closer, after noticing something small sticking out from beneath one of the bricks, Violet pulled at the tiny thread.

She nearly fell backwards as the brick moved.

Putting her phone down, now having more material exposed to grab onto, Violet forcefully pulled the brick out from the wall.

A cloud of dust blew back at her, causing her to cough into her arm, hoping no one heard.

Shining her phone once again at the hole left by the brick, her heart dropped.

Inside she found a man's striped button up shirt, bloody, wrapped around something hard.

With shaky hands she gazed up the stairs, listening carefully for any noise.

Hearing nothing she took the shirt out to gently unwrap it.

Tears filled her hazel eyes, tears for _him._

It was a knife, not just any household kitchen utensil, she had seen one like it before, at her grandfather's cabin on the lake in Maine.

It was a filet knife, used to strip the scales and skin away from fish.

Sharp as hell, she remembered her mom telling her to stay far away from the men when they were preparing the fish for dinner.

The entire blade was caked with blood, as well as a dark crimson red hand print on the handle.

It didn't take a genius to figure out just who's hand it was, or who the shirt belonged to.

Wrapping it back up quickly, she shoved it back in it's resting place, being very careful to put the brick back exactly how it was.

Once again lighting it up with her phone, she noticed that she had disturbed the dust, it stood out among the other bricks.

Looking around nervously, she found a rag that had been down there clearly for a long time, shaking it over the brick she did her best to coat the stone with the dirt from the cloth.

Breathing hard, her heart rammed against her ribs.

Tate was right, his father would never leave him, the evidence was clear, Hugo Langdon was murdered.

Shaking, she stood leaning against the wall, wondering how the hell she would tell him, how she could possibly hurt him, destroy him, take away all his hope of ever seeing his father again, worse, knowing he died at the hands of his own mother.

**vTv**

Peering in his window like a predator, silent and deadly, Tate easily slipped inside his window, as Gabe slept peacefully in bed.

Slowly, with eerie ease, Tate circled his bed looking down at his catch, before his gaze lifted to his surrounding walls.

They were covered, shelves upon shelves of trophies, everything from baseball to chess, he was a champion in all sports and academics, achievements were framed proudly displayed, adding to Tate's visceral hatred of this kid.

Taking out a roll of duct tape from the pocket of his sweatshirt, Tate ripped off a small piece, as he approached Gabe.

Forcing back a smile, finding that he was strangely enjoying this, he quickly pressed the tape over his mouth while bracing his forearm across his chest, leaning his knee roughly into his side.

Wide eyes stared up at him in terror, adjusting to the darkness, a sudden acknowledgement appeared.

"Yes it's me asshole, Violet's brother, Tate… and no, unfortunately this is not a dream."

Digging his knee deeper into his side as Gabe struggled, Tate brought his finger up to his lips.

"Shh, now Gabe, although it is true that you are not dreaming, it's really up to you if this night becomes a nightmare."

Stilling, he stopped trying to yell through the tape, realizing no one could hear him.

"Good boy… now you're getting it… listen all I want is a little talk."

Lifting a switchblade from his back pocket, Tate engaged the blade to Gabe's horror.

"Now Gabe, no one needs to get hurt, like I said, I just want to talk, because honestly I think we have a little problem that needs clearing up."

Seeing that breathing was becoming an issue, Tate eased up the pressure from his knee.

"Now, we both know that Violet has made it clear to you that she is just… not interest."

Waving the blade around as he spoke, Tate noticed tears forming in Gabe's eyes.

Laughing quietly, Tate cocked his head to the side, finding his weakness pathetic, especially since he found no issue with throwing Violet in front of the bus with Ben to get what he wanted.

Sighing, Tate lowered the knife down close to his eyes.

" I want you to leave Violet alone, no more threats, no more secret little emails to Ben, in fact I foresee you suddenly finding that your schedule is just too jam packed for tutoring."

Shaking violently, Gabe mumbled something indistinct as Tate lowered the blade to his neck, mimicking the act of slicing his throat.

Shaking his head, as if not satisfied with that punishment, Tate flashed his black eyes up quickly to meet Gabe's as if he just had an awesome idea.

Flipping the knife around so it was vertical, blade facing down, he pointed it directly to his balls.

Screaming now through the tape, flailing around Gabe was hysterically crying, begging.

Tate raised his eyebrows up at him, smiling widely as a huge wet puddle began to form across his pajama bottoms.

"Are you pissing your pants?"

Getting off the bed to get a better view, Tate laughed harder, "Holy shit, you did, you actually pissed your pants!"

Hyperventilating Gabe stared up towards the ceiling as if praying.

Kneeling by his head Tate poked his earlobe with the end of his knife.

"Oh I wouldn't bother, God isn't going to help you Gabe, in fact, no one can really help you now except for you."

Looking directly at him, paying close attention Gabe became very quiet.

"Don't go near her again, if by chance she approaches you, turn and walk away. Email Ben one last time, apologize for over scheduling yourself, and quit. Because if you don't Gabe, I'll be back, and it won't be here, it will be somewhere you'll least expect me, and those balls wont be the only thing I'll cut off between your legs. Do we understand each other?"

Nodding vigorously, Gabe enthusiastically agreed.

"Good, now just in case you get any ideas about going to daddy or the police, or god forbid you're fucking stupid enough to speak to Violet about any of this, I want you to know... there is _no one_, **not one person on this Earth** that will be able to protect you from me."

Nodding, crying, Gabe muffled his understanding through the tape.

"I'll scatter pieces of you across the country, they'll never be able to find a hair on your fat head, your dick and balls will be the first to go. Your death will be long, painful, unforgiving, and then _you_ will be gone, forever."

All play left Tate's face as he stood hovering over him, giving Gabe a sinister image of a boy that never spoke words so true, it was something that could never be forgotten or buried away by any amount of alcohol or drugs.

"I'm going to take the tape off now, and then you're going to tell me what you've decided to do about all this."

Pressing the knife to his jugular, Tate ripped off the tape in one motion causing Gabe to wince.

"Well?"

Swallowing hard, straining to speak, Gabe harshly whispered while choking back tears.

"I-I'm going to email Ben, a-apologize for spreading myself too thin, and terminate our tutoring sessions."

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Tate nodded with approval.

"_Terminate_, yeah, I like that, good choice of words Gabe… and Violet?"

Shaking hard, at just the mention of her name, Gabe stammered, "I-I won't speak to her, or go near her, ever again."

Retrieving the blade back in it's sheath, Tate smiled wide, showing his dimples, before shoving the knife in his back pocket.

"Cool."

With that Tate was gone, back onto the tree limb, down the trellis, and in his car, watching as Gabe's room remained dark.

Grabbing his phone to tell Violet that he was on his way, his heart dropped when he saw a troubling message.

**Tate**

**come home now**

**I'm in the basement**

**we need to talk**

**V**

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	11. Chapter 11

_**DinahRay, gvozzdika, CMLangdon, Chris.P.C., TateLangdonsgun, Alexelle.S, nationalcarmen, and parmigiolate... thank you so much for your reviews. So sorry for my long absence, sucky times unfortunately, please know how much I appreciate all your unbelievably kind words, they mean more than you know.**_

Anxious fingers slid slowly up the cool banister, his footsteps were light, quiet, his pulse racing, his breath shallow as her ominous text played on a loop in his head.

**Tate come home now**

**I'm in the basement**

**we need to talk**

**V**

Questions gnawed at him, there was a definite tone of urgency laced in her words, her message seemed rushed, the possibilities were endless considering what had been going on in the house of late.

After searching the basement he began to panic, now wondering if Gabe had looked to Ben for protection from his little visit, he didn't strike him to be that fucking stupid but Tate had been wrong before.

Staring down at his cell once more seeing no responses to his many calls to her he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

Pressing his hand lightly against his bedroom door he backed away surprised as it effortlessly swung open as if someone had been inside.

She wasn't there, but on closer inspection he noticed the top drawer of his dresser ajar, his clothes were tossed around, strewn across his floor, someone had been searching his room.

His heart nearly stopped realizing that's where he kept the files his stole from Ben's office on Violet's mother.

Panicking he riffled through his drawer, they were gone, and what's worse he didn't know who had them.

All of the possibilities would render severe consequences - Constance, Ben, Violet.

Oh god … Violet, the message.

Now it all made sense, she knew, Violet knew exactly where her mother was, and who put her there.

Considering her temper, especially when it came to her father, Tate became frantic worrying that she confronted him.

Now running towards her room he hated himself for keeping it all from her, he couldn't imagine what she must be thinking, feeling, this was a fucking nightmare.

This wasn't what he wanted, he was supposed to be her savior, her protector, keeping her from harm, and he may have just led her straight to the devil himself, the monster hidden behind the gentle eyes of her father who was at best an unhinged psychopath.

He pictured her reading over the horrific words herself, alone, feeling abandoned, betrayed, deceived by the very people that she thought loved her the most in this world.

An eerie hush loomed through every corner of the large house as he continued to seek her out.

Edging closer to her bedroom, he hesitated briefly, his heel planted on the wooden floor, the toe of his sneaker still up in the air.

Staring through the crack of her door, he stood frozen as a distant sound suddenly drifted upon a gentle breeze that lifted the sheer curtains in her room high in the air.

His black eyes darted back and forth after he shoved her door open aggressively now frantically looking for her.

A cold sweat of fear broke out over his pale skin, dampening his blonde curls against his forehead.

Unrecognizable haunting sounds slowly turned into long suffering drawn out vibrating familiar notes as her bow slid painfully across the strings of her violin that he envisioned tucked mournfully within her exquisite body.

Terrified his emotion filled nervous stare flashed upwards to the ceiling realizing where she was as he lunged towards her open window.

A hushed desperate whisper of her name fell from his lips, echoing in the cool air along with the rustle of the leaves on the tips of the large Oak tree outside where he caught strands of her honey hair being carried like the feathers of a bird along the wind.

"Violet!"

His blood turned ice cold rushing through his veins as he witnessed his only reason for living on the highest point of the roof.

Appearing as if she were in a trance, she stood on the pointed apex of the house, eyes closed, her delicate fingers but a blur as she played intensely at a furious pace.

He recognized the piece instantly, it was what she listened to when the darkness reached her, when she missed her mother the most, when the pain was too much to bear, Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D.

She had talked intensely about it with him, it was her mother's favorite, a dramatic deeply complex repetition of driving notes overlapping revealing buried truths hidden deep inside every musician that dared to play it, an interpretation of the ravaged soul longing to be set free, or at least that how she explained it to him.

Violet told him that she'd never be able to reach the level required to perform it with it's intended sorrowful, wrathful beauty, but as she stood there braced against the elements, one foot in front of the other, balanced on an inch wide aluminum beam appearing as if she were suspended in the night air, her devastating revealation brought tears to his eyes.

With every vigorous strike of her bow his muscles clenched paralyzed with fear watching her bare feet shake unsteadily as if any moment she'd slip from the peak of the house.

Looking down at the ground below he knew without a doubt that the fall would kill her, an impossible notion, the suggestion alone incomprehensible, for it would be a death for him as well.

To live in this world, this nightmare of deception and cruelty was now unthinkable without having her by his side.

She was his everything, his reason for living, for going on when all had seemed meaningless, just a series of endless seconds ticking by, hours, days flowing into the other seemingly without purpose.

Violet breathed life into a heart that had grown cold and numb, an unforeseeable angel whose delicate wings sheltered him from the storm that raged inside his head, a sublime devoted shield against the abuse of his mother, and the abandonment of a father who he feared he would never see again.

She understood without explanations, loved with no expectations, passionately selflessly in her feelings for him, she was his waking dream, a heaven to his hell.

Deep inside her she had the power to vanquish all his fears, to lift his soul from depths so cold and empty to a place he could only describe as paradise.

To love her was a gift, which on his knees he would gladly beg for if requested, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her, never had this been more apparent as he watched her shakily hover on the razor's edge of death itself.

Carefully he grabbed onto a thick branch while keeping his dark eyes locked on her, worried that any noise would startle her causing her to lose her balance, he silently scaled the rough bark digging his fingers into the aging tree every time she moved.

Dressed in nothing but a thin over sized white tank she shivered, her quivering lips tinged blue as she continued, never wavering or lagging behind a single grueling note almost possessed in her will to finish.

A crescent blindingly bright moon hung behind her casting down upon her a gentle spotlight over her slender shoulders, a halo engulfing her, making her glow, in a very real way she had never appeared more beautiful.

Her thin graceful arms moved with impossible speed as her silky hair flew all around her wildly.

It was apparent as he stared up at her, his fragile heart pounding, hands shaking with a need to hold her, he was indebted to her for his very life, that this was no ordinary love.

It was the kind of devotion written in the lines of poetry, in the melody of songs, whispered along the wings of birds that flew in the midnight air.

This drove him on as he scaled to the edge of the limb that wavered threatening to break under his weight.

Jumping onto the highest point of the roof that angled at forty five degrees, with no thought or care for his own safety, he made his way quietly climbing closer to her.

Her music was beginning to gain the unwanted attention of the neighbors as lights flicked on one by one on either side of the house as well as across the street.

Tate knew that a sufficient mixture of booze and Valium would keep Constance down for the night, but he wasn't sure of Ben's habits.

With that in mind, and the danger that lingered below gaining in strength each moment she exhausted herself, he knew he didn't have much time left.

He could hear the distant chatter of people now outside in their bathrobes pointing up at them, time was running out, soon the cops would be called and all hell would break loose.

Making his way to the summit he carefully pulled his body up until he was standing with his arms stretched outward until he found his balance.

Track proved useful as his strong quadriceps and tight abs leveled his lanky thin body almost instantly.

Clueless that he was even there she vigorously played the challenging piece as tears now began to spill over onto her flushed cheeks.

This was a desperate act, she was daring the universe to take her, to end her misery, because what she now knew, couldn't be never be unknown, no matter how hard she tried.

The dye was cast, not only with the sealing of her mother's fate, but the horrific truth in Tate's father's disappearance, they were just kids, trapped unable to get out from beneath the vicious unthinkable deeds of their parents.

Focusing solely on Violet, now shaking recklessly before him, Tate breathed out slowly raising his worn sneaker over the other coming closer with each step.

Reaching out she was just inches away from his fingertips as she swayed back and forth lost in the depths of her music, in the dark recesses of Bach, in the movement of her bow, a mere extension of herself, of her graceful thin body that flowed with the wind, with unrestrained emotion that rose up within her pouring out through her fingers.

Lifting his wide black eyes straight ahead he held his breath just as a concerned neighbor approached the front door with cell phone in hand ready to call the police.

Swallowing hard it was now or never, he thought to himself knowing full well that either way he'd be by her side, that in this world or the next he would remain hers.

Just as the music was building rapidly to its inevitable climax, he took one final step towards her while droplets of sweat fell from the tips of the flaxen waves that framed his beautiful face.

Wrapping both arms around her tiny waist he pulled her backwards away from the pointed perilous edge, the dark fate that was nearly promised to her.

Shocked out of her trance, Violet's whiskey glazed eyes flew open, giving her a view of the night sky stretched out before her, feeling the comforting breath of her love as he kissed her bare shoulder needing badly to taste her skin, to know for certain that she was safe in his arms.

Folding her mother's precious violin close to her body she allowed him to carefully help her back into her bedroom.

Breathless Tate fell to his knees, his cheek pressed to her stomach, feeling emotionally drained as the adrenaline slipped from his limbs.

Digging his fingers into her flesh, he was desperate to feel her as her hands laced loving through his blonde hair.

After regaining his strength he carried her to her bed after locking the door not giving a shit about being caught.

Lifting her onto his lap, cradling her close to his chest, he wrapped a blanket around her in an attempt to warm her freezing small frame as she shivered violently against him.

With a level of vulnerability she had never witnessed from him, he whispered against her temple as he rocked her within his arms.

"Violet, promise me, swear to me that you will never risk your life like that again. I'll do anything you ask, I'll be whatever you want, give you anything you need, just don't leave me… swear to me… please swear it to me."

Clinging to him she nodded slowly, her thoughts still locked in the dark recesses of her mind, and the grisly secrets she had discovered in the basement.

Waiting patiently for her to speak of her mother, he tried to prepare himself for the anger she surely felt towards him for keeping this secret for so long.

Refusing, physically unable to let her go, he leaned back against her headboard sighing with relief as she curled around his body, lulled by the steady beat of his heart as it noticeably ached for her.

Stroking her hair, brushing his soft lips across her skin, he just held her, satisfied for now that she was with him, where she belonged.

It was several hours into the night before he heard her voice, barely there, a fragile whisper in the dark.

She sounded broken inside, as if part of her was missing.

"Do you believe in God."

Thrown by her question he answered softly, truthfully. "No Violet."

Nodding against his chest she skimmed her fingers beneath his tee shirt, flattening her palm on his smooth bare skin, needing to be even closer to him before speaking again.

"Neither do I, but there is evil Tate… not demons or a devil, but regular ordinary people who are capable of truly unforgivable, horrific things."

Her voice trailed off faltering in it's strength, strained with emotion.

Sliding down so he could face her, he lifted her chin before cupping her cheek, brushing her tears away one by one as they fell.

"Violet, please talk to me… tell me what happened."

He could see the wheels turning in her mind, unknown to him she was filtering the unnecessary out, figuring how to soften the blow that was about to shatter his world, working on a way to construct unthinkable sentences, create the most gentle of descriptions from of a discovery that in itself was incomprehensible.

Still fearing what she must be feeling, betrayed, confused, ultimately lost as to why he kept the truth about her mother from her for so long, he wanted to take the pressure off of her.

"Violet does Ben know you have the files on your mother?"

Worried firstly for her safety, he needed to get that out of the way, before he tried to explain.

"No."

He felt her hesitation in the pounding of her heart, the shallow puffs of air nervously whisking on the surface of his skin, it was killing him, shaking the delicate foundation of his world.

"Violet so many times I wanted to tell you, I just couldn't bear to hurt you. Ben is dangerous, your father is not what he seems, I just wanted to protect you… please forgive me."

Closing her eyes she felt for all that he still did not know, for the years of sexual abuse, the threats, the constant mind fucking till at times she worried she could no longer trust what was real.

She knew first hand just how dangerous her father was, she carried scars no one could see, she shook in the night wondering if he would come for her.

Violet couldn't imagine telling Tate, what he would think of her, how it would change things between them, but that's not what was on her mind.

Her mother, his father, it was all too much to handle.

Startled out of her thoughts she heard his sweet voice once again sweeping over her in the darkness of the room.

"Please talk to me."

Her eyelashes fluttered under the low deep tone of his gentle voice, it was the sound of her heaven, her salvation, the only peace she'd ever known.

Her eyes closed for a moment seeing his name etched in the brick, his father's bloody shirt, the hunting knife.

The images fluctuated quickly to her mother, vivid pictures in her mind of her restrained, drugged, trapped behind thick grey cement walls.

Thinking back she remember him telling her how he broke into her father's office, how he knew things about her mother.

"You knew the night at the beach, the first night we made love."

Softly Tate swept his fingers along her jawline caressing her bottom lip with his thumb, his insides twisted in guilt.

"I had the files in the backseat of my car, I had every intention of telling you that night, that's why I took you there, to get you away from the house… but then..."

Looking into his tear filled eyes blankly, traumatized by truths to malevolent to fathom, Violet nodded once letting her mind drift.

She understood because now she was faced with the same dilemma, to hurt the one you love more than life itself, more than yourself.

There was nothing to forgive, in fact it wasn't forgiveness she was searching for as she rolled over their parents heinous acts in her head.

Their actions could not be overlooked, it wasn't sympathy she needed from Tate but something much darker.

"I know Tate, I know you didn't want to hurt me… there's nothing to forgive. I love you, I didn't mean to scare you. I don't know why I went out there. I had every intention of meeting you in the basement like I asked, but it was cold, so I ran to your room to grab a sweatshirt, and that's when I found… the files… on my mom. I don't even remember how I got on the roof, I just need to play, to put myself someplace … else."

His watery black gaze reminded her of an endless deep ocean full of mystery, an abyss were dangerous creatures lurked far from sight, beautiful in their ability to snare their prey, to torture and maim.

She was well aware of the darkness that lingered beneath the surface of his angelic features, the golden halo of blonde curls, his flawless pale skin, like milk pouring over her body igniting desires that laid dormant, asleep within her as if everything was waiting patiently for his arrival into her life.

Violet knew him, understood that with his gentle soft nature lied the opposite, a mirrored effect of rage, of unrestrained brutality, a savage who would relish in what most would see as an abomination, a beautiful wicked beast who could tip the scales of injustice back where it belonged.

She knew him, understood all of this because it echoed what was deep inside of her.

Hidden from sight, locked away, she too vibrated with a lust to right the wrong, to teach lessons in the most painful of ways, a sinister savage laying in wait for her love, the only other who would truly understand.

Resting her head back on his chest, she pushed his shirt up to his neck exposing his pale body, needing to be as close to him as possible.

"My father threatened her, promised to have her committed if she fought custody. It explains everything, but she did as he asked, she stayed away… so why did he lock her up Tate? Why is the last of her medical transcripts of a drooling, restrained woman who is capable of nothing more than rocking back and forth mumbling gibberish, who's undergone extensive lobotomies and now has little knowledge of who she even is anymore."

Lacing his fingers through her long hair he held her tight, as he lifted his shirt over his head.

With no answers to give her, he wanted to comfort her, to take her somewhere safe and warm, where she would be loved, where pain, if just for a few moments would fade into the distance, blurred, muddled from view.

Then she felt it, his mouth warm against her neck, his tongue dancing slowly with purpose down over the swell of her breast.

"I'm so sorry Violet."

Melting in his hands that had now drifted along the curves of her body, mapping out trails of pleasure too intense to fight, she sighed quietly wanting nothing more than to disappear in him.

Thin straps that once clung to her shoulders fell gladly from their perch giving him access to a body desperate for relief as he latched onto her rosy nipple.

Now hovering over her Tate was consumed by her, possessed, obsessed, hopelessly in love.

He wanted nothing more than to please her, to bring her to a place of solace, to give her an escape, if only for a while.

A sharp pitched whine left her parted lips as his mouth covered her sex, soft lips moved languidly mouthing words of forever, unhindered by doubt he tasted her sinfully evoking cries as her body quivered and bowed upward.

Fluttering the tip of his tongue along her clit deemed to be too much as she quickly pulled him up urging him to come inside.

Surging deep within her, where he longed to be, always, as he gazed deep into her eyes, his mouth open, locked in euphoric bliss, breathless, his lips shivering with each thrust, she suddenly knew what had to be done to take all the horror away.

Feeling their impending climax quickly approaching she reached over her head to grasp onto the railing of the headboard, lifting her hips to greet the thrust of his cock as his slid inside lifting her off the bed demanding all of her.

She knew what was to come, his truth, the murder of his father at his own mother's hands.

She understood with perfect clarity what that would entail, what would be let loose, the monster that would be set free.

Violet came with an intensity like never before as he continued to pound inside her, their bodies glistening with sweat, his sweet groans skimming like promises of forever along her skin as he cupped her ass desperate to fuck her to the depths of her soul.

It was then, in that moment as she stared up at the blank ceiling, her fingers bone white as she clung onto to the iron rods of her bed, that she saw their future, and the path of destruction that they would leave in their wake.

In an exchange of the tale of horror concerning the fate of his father, she would offer a way to make them pay.

An artful scheme to wreak havoc on everything they held dear, dragging them unknowingly into a world of chaos so dark and vile that to kill them would seem exceedingly merciful.

It was be gradual, torturous, cunningly executed to impose the most amount of physical and emotional pain possible.

This was no act of revenge, Ben and Constance deserved far worse.

Writhing in orgasmic euphoria as Tate repeatedly drove her to cum with abandonment, Violet smiled wickedly as her shiny white teeth sunk into her bottom lip drawing droplets of crimson red blood.

To truly kill the evil viper that seeks to destroy everything you are, you must cut the head off the venomous snake, in this case two snakes.

True this would be the inevitable conclusion, but Violet thought it would be more fitting to slowly, painfully bring them screaming to their death.

Relishing the thought, she found it much more gratifying to skin them gradually from the tail up, alive, so every moment would be felt to it's fullest.

Like peeling an apple with one long unbroken strip, she mused as she flipped Tate over to straddle his waist sinking languidly down on his hard cock.

A sharp drawn out gasp escaped his lungs as he gripped her hips overwhelmed with pleasure.

Love shone bright in his deep black eyes as he panted heavily, lost in her completely, wholly, with everything that he was.

**_Skin the snakes, cut off their heads, make them pay…_**

This is what swirled in her mind as she rode him to his blissful completion.

A simple insidious proposal to end their misery, all she needed was his approval, his unwavering consent.

***reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	12. Chapter 12

Weeks of pretend normalcy, that's what they had agreed upon, they had to be careful, smart, leaving no evidence of their relationship behind for their parents to discover.

Stolen moments in the basement, fucking fast and hard in the middle of the night, was all they had, the sacrifice was beginning to wear on them, but he wouldn't risk losing her, and she wouldn't risk her plan.

Violet knew she had to wait for Tate's eighteenth birthday, till he could legally be her guardian, as messed up as that sounded, it was the only way.

She had seen the will, the house, everything would be left to Constance should anything happen to Ben, but in the unforeseen matter of the southern widow's demise, it would be Tate that would inherit it all.

The two headed snake was headed for hell, the journey was growing near, it was all Violet could think about.

In the meantime things were continuing to decline between the newly married couple.

Between Ben's obvious affair with his young fragile suicidal patient, and Constance's spending to compensate for her loneliness, fights were often vicious, raging well into the night at times.

They both were drinking heavily, Constance was downing pills like candy, they were helping Violet's plan without even knowing it, laying the groundwork themselves.

Still she held onto the information of Tate's father, Violet knew that this would be the tipping point for him, that the blinding hatred he already felt for Constance would explode into blinding rage if he knew that she had murdered his father.

Feeling abandoned and rejected, thinking that his dad had left him, blaming himself, to finally know the truth would be all that she would need to push him over the edge, Constance's fate would be sealed.

Even though it was a necessary evil, the pain this would cause Tate tore at her, to hurt him was now equivalent to hurting herself, her love for him was boundless, Tate had become her life.

In her heart she knew he deserved to know the truth, that his father would never be returning for him.

While agreeing to take them both down, Tate was in the dark about Violet's sinister intentions.

Not yet aware that death was her goal, he concentrated on destroying Ben's reputation.

It was the perfect time, Constance had just taken enough tranquilizers and Vodka to knock over an elephant, while Ben had slipped out once again to visit his mistress at a fancy rehab facility where he had moved her to keep her close.

Violet was busy rehearsing for her first violin solo for an upcoming show at her school, he was basically alone.

Carefully he made his way downstairs to Ben's home office, placing a small flashlight between his teeth he searched through patient files, and bills, coming up with nothing.

Opening his laptop he typed in several passwords each once failing.

Spinning around in Ben's large leather chair, Tate stared up at the ceiling doing his best to think, before filling in the space with Violet's name followed by her date of birth.

Nothing was working.

Rising his flashlight over the many books that lined his walls, Tate zeroed in on one that unlike the other's was wiped clean of dust, moved slightly out from the others, as if it had been read recently and often.

It was a book of poems by Jane Taylor, which was odd since Ben once commented on loathing poetry in all forms, once referring to it as fodder for romantic fools that were essentially the backbone of his practice.

Thumbing through the pages, Tate came across one that was folded over, bookmarked in a sense, as if it had been read several times.

_**The Violet**_

**_by Jane Taylor_**

_**Down in a green and shady bed,**_

_**A modest violet grew,**_

_**Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,**_

_**As if to hide from view.**_

_**And yet it was a lovely flower,**_

_**Its colours bright and fair;**_

_**It might have graced a rosy bower,**_

_**Instead of hiding there,**_

_**Yet there it was content to bloom,**_

_**In modest tints arrayed;**_

_**And there diffused its sweet perfume,**_

_**Within the silent shade.**_

_**Then let me to the valley go,**_

_**This pretty flower to see;**_

_**That I may also learn to grow**_

_**In sweet humility.**_

Tate's chest tightened in the strangeness of such a find, while not definitive proof, it did scream of something off, unnatural, a hint of a keepsake that seemed to be for a lover not a father.

Shaking his head of such thoughts, noting the time, he quickly typed in the name of the poem causing the computer to light up his handsome face with much needed information.

Looking for anything remotely damaging, Tate decided to scan his emails first.

There were several disturbing ones addressed to Gabe that caught his attention immediately.

Reading quickly through all of them, the theme was quite clear, Ben was insistent on knowing the reason for Gabe's sudden need to resign from his position as Violet's tudor.

The first few after his resignation went unanswered, they were date soon after Tate's visit, where he forcefully convinced Gabe that any further contact with her would result in consequences of a violent nature.

Clearly Ben was not accepting Gabe's vague and rash decision to cut ties with not only her, but him, so abruptly.

In keeping with Ben's narcissistic personality trait, the emails soon became threatening, demanding to know 'the real reason'.

It seemed that Ben had a relationship with his father going back since college, one word from him, the wrong kind of word and Gabe could be in deep shit.

Of course Ben put it in more covert terms, but Tate got the message, and in reading the last email, that was unopened, sent just hours before, so did Gabe.

**Dr. Harmen, I have reason to believe that your daughter is in danger, please meet with me Sunday in the park. Tell no one about this until I speak to you. I promise to explain everything.**

Quickly deleting the email, Tate rushed to put the book back just as a key fell from a hole carved into the binding.

Short on time, Tate shoved the key in his pocket and took off for the basement to retrieve a few necessary items before taking off in his Mustang.

**vTv**

Upon Violet's arrival, she found Tate sitting at the kitchen table, his jaw clenched, the sleeves of his mustard sweater pulled tight over curled fists.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak the answering machine popped on echoing Ben's voice throughout house.

"I've tried your voicemail, but your mailbox is full, you might want to work on that dear, that is when you're not out wearing out my credit cards. Listen, I have a difficult case I am involved with, I'll be working through the night, don't wait up."

Blowing out a sigh of relief, Tate brushed his blonde waves off his forehead muttering to himself.

"Well that takes care of him, and with Constance sleeping with prince valium tonight, I guess we lucked out."

Lowering her violin case against her thigh gently, Violet shook her head in confusion.

"What's going on Tate?"

Lifting his black eyes toward his love, Tate slowly kicked out the chair beside him.

"Please Violet, sit, we need to talk."

**vTv**

Tears slid down unto the duck tape one by one faster than Gabe could blink them away.

His bindings were tight, ropes cut mercilessly into his wrists and ankles as he shook the chair he was tied to back and forth desperate to get loose.

Tate's instructions had been clear, Gabe was to keep his gaze fixed on Violet, at anytime if he were to look away he'd lose any eye, any scream for help against the tape pressed to his mouth, and both would be lost.

They were deep in the basement down a hidden room far away from the stairs leading down from the first floor, it had been a storage area, hard to get to, but not impossible.

Gripping the dusty bricks beside her, Violet struggled to catch her breath as she looked down into Gabe's wide eyes.

Her voice was halting, breathless, her concentration faltering at times, but he understood every word.

"Is this what you fantasized about Gabe? All those … nights, your clammy hands groping me… snaking between my thighs, under the table… hidden by my books..."

Her voice trailed off as her head fell back hard against the wall when Tate lashed his tongue in a particular delicious way against her sex.

Panting hard, attempting to gain control as Tate continued his assault between her thighs, she glared down at Gabe.

"All those hours, trapped with you… while you manipulated my father, leaving me a victim to your twisted needs, a prisoner, no matter now many times I pleaded with you to stop. Do you know many nights I dreamed of hurting you?"

A high pitched whine left her mouth as Tate slid his long fingers inside while circling his thumb quickly against her flinching clit.

Turning to face Gabe, knowing she was close, Tate smiled wickedly, her wetness glistening on his lips as he curved them upward.

"Don't look away, I'd hate for you to miss this, it's really the best part. Plus of course there is the matter of keeping those baby blues."

Gabe strained against his bindings, rocking the chair from leg to leg as he shook with terror.

His muffled words were indecipherable through the duct tape until Tate leaned over while still pleasuring Violet to rip it off.

**"P-Please,** I'm sorry… I promise, I won't say anything, I'll t-tell Ben I was wrong, I'll tell him it was someone else. Just don't do this - "

Running his tongue over his lips, Tate hummed with satisfaction tasting her on his tongue.

"Oh I'm afraid it's far too late for that, you were warned. You should have listened… now watch Gabe… keep your eyes focused while I make my beautiful girl cum."

Slapping the tape back in place, he resumed his place, softly, slowly dancing his tongue along her slit while retrieving his switch blade from his back pocket.

Bracing the knife against the brick so Violet could see, he whispered calmly against her pussy.

"Violet, tell me how you felt when Gabe would force himself on you… when he would threaten you, silencing you again and again while he had his fun?"

Trembling, she gripped her fingers inside Tate's thick hair digging her nails forcefully into his scalp.

"Defiled, sick, powerless… fucking h-helpless…"

Gabe eyed the knife for a moment fearing the worst, breaking the rules.

Sensing the shift of his attention, Tate grabbed the leg of the chair pulling it roughly towards him.

Violet's leg wrapped tightly around Tate's shoulder as he vibrated his tongue hard against her clit while shoving the knife deep inside Gabe's belly.

Lapping at her with feverish delight he groaned seductively against her pulsating center.

"Tell me Violet, how do you feel now?"

Cumming harder than ever before, she screamed, her voice shaking the surrounding spiders webs stretched across the corners of the small room sending their owners scurrying to the ceiling.

A smile lifted up along flushed cheeks as she gazed down at her black eyed hero.

"Vindicated. Please, more… again… again Tate."

Knowing exactly what she meant Tate turned to face Gabe hovering over him casting a dark shadow ten feet tall.

Tilting his head as sweat dampened his flaxen tresses, Tate bared rows of sharp white teeth in a disturbing grin.

"You heard the lady. She wants more."

Gabe rocked the chair hard, causing the front legs to lift off the ground wedging the back against the brick wall which in turn just gave Tate the leverage he needed to do real damage.

Lost in the depths of vengeance, Tate buried the knife countless times, gutting Gabe in a horrid display of spilling entrails and endless pools of blood.

It was only when he felt her, flush to his back, her hand skimming down his arm, that he released the knife into her hand.

Tossing it to the ground, Violet couldn't help herself as she pressed her palm over Tate's quickly growing erection.

"Thank you."

Her mouth was hot against his ear, her whispered word more than enough to abandon his quest for revenge as he turned around quickly taking Violet with him.

Lifting her effortlessly, he slammed her against the wall while she desperately released him from the confines of his jeans.

With one hard thrust he was inside, burying himself deep, gasping for air, shaken by the sheer pleasure of her so close.

For what seemed like forever he rested his forehead to her shoulder, shakily breathing, his bloody hands clutching the fair skin of her thighs.

Running her fingers through his hair she pulled him back to stare into his dark eyes.

"You feel it, don't you? This is what we're meant to do, to right the wrongs, make the fuckers pay. We can't stop now… tell me Tate. Promise me they'll pay."

Drifting his mouth over her lips, shivering hard as she continued to sink down impaling herself on his rigid cock, he nodded emphatically as he fucked her slow and hard with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

"_Anything_ … anything for you, for my beautiful Violet."

**tvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtv**

_**parmigiolate, claire, Dinah, Chris P.C., Chelsea, Alexelle.S, Meel Jacques, gvozzdika, Laura Stark Potter Weasley, ALittlePush, ghm, and Jasmine, thank you so, so much for your replies, so appreciate every word. I hit a wall with this fic, but I was pulled back to it, and am definitely going to finish it. I know it's been forever, but whoever is still interested, there will be more to come.**_

_**Just a little reminder, Ben has been molesting Violet for years, Tate is unaware, but with the key that he had acquired in this chpt he is soon to find out everything. Thanks again :)**_

_**Poem, The Violet, by Jane Taylor**_


	13. Chapter 13

Nestled in his arms, they gazed down at the body, Violet couldn't help a satisfied smirk as it ran across her mouth.

Sated in every way she clung to her hero, absent of any and all remorse or empathy, she could have stayed down there till the bitter end, in fact it's what she wanted, to see the life slowly flee his failing body.

Poking him with the toe of her sneaker, she laughing lightly, hearing him moan, unable to speak.

"Let's play for a while, I think he's got a few minutes left. Hey, I have a great idea, after this we should go to our beach, we can watch the sun rise."

Surprised by the fearless lightness of her voice, his thoughts were more rooted in reality, not to mention her safety, as always.

"We have to be smart Violet, I have to clean this mess up, get rid of him. Tomorrow we have to go to school, do what we'd normally do. We have to be careful now."

Her disappointment was evident as she tousled the dying boys hair playfully, before turning to head upstairs.

Hanging back for a moment Tate couldn't tear his eyes away, what he had done, knowing now what he was truly capable of.

Gabe was still tied to the chair, hunched over drowning in his own blood gurgling for help, glaring up at Tate, riddled with stab wounds.

Tate stepped back, wiping his knife clean against his jeans slowly before pointing it in Gabe's direction as he spoke.

"Don't look at me like that, you fucked up, I warned you… I fucking warned you, this is not my fault."

Running up the stairs, Tate redirected Violet, who was headed to her bedroom, to the mirror in the hallway.

She was splattered in Gabe's blood, not as much as he was, but the evidence was there, disturbingly, either she was unaware or she didn't care.

Drawing a bath for her, Tate sat on the lip of the tub removing her clothes carefully placing them in a brown paper bag.

Nodding towards the bag she shrugged, "What's that for?"

Whispering so as to not wake his mother, he lifted his dark eyes along her bare skin streaked dots of red.

"I'm putting my clothes in there too, I have to burn the evidence, everything has to go."

Frowning she huffed, "Damn, I liked that sweater, and those tights were my favorite."

"I'll replace them, it'll be fine." he cooed, while stroking her hair.

Gently helping her into the steamy water he ran a soapy washcloth over her skin, down one leg than the other, around each finger, and along her neck, before standing her in the shower to wash her hair.

Violet hardly moved, letting him completely take care of her, she couldn't take her sleepy eyes off of him, he looked gallant, like a knight, or a warrior of some kind, her savior.

"It's sticky, I never imagined it that way. I thought it would be more slick, like oil." she mused as she watched his blood swirl down the drain.

Wrapping her in a fluffy towel he set her on the hamper while he cleaned the tub, looking for bleach under the sink for later, after his shower.

Yawning, Violet rested her head on the window sill, "It's a mess down there, I can't leave you to do it by yourself."

Lifting her in his arms he carried her to her bed, gently pulling a tee shirt over her head, before easing her back against her pillow.

Sweeping her hair from her face, he stared down at her caressing her cheek lovingly, as if they just came home from a romantic night together.

His voice floated over her, deep and soft, soothing her, lulling her to sleep.

"I'll take care of everything, it will all be done by morning, Constance and Ben will be none the wiser and Gabe will be but a memory, no longer a threat to you… or us."

Fighting heavy eyelids she sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck, sliding her small body onto his lap.

Whispering in his ear as she held him tight, she sunk her teeth against his skin, sighing into the metallic scent of Gabe's dried blood along his neck.

"Come inside, please... "

Gripping his sweater around her fist she breathed him in, it was intoxicating, exciting, arousing.

Nibbling, licking like a kitten she mewed as he smoothed his hands along her bare legs, pulling her in tight, as always unable to resist her.

Slowly she began to rut against him, already soaked through her underwear, she was trying to wear him down.

Realizing he was covered in sweat and viscera, reminding him of all he had yet left to do, he reluctantly used his strength to place her back onto the mattress, securing the covers over her.

Weakly she protested.

"No, please… I need you, I want you… _now_."

Pulling back he saw the fire in her eyes, the flush of heat along her cheeks, he felt it then, more than ever the bond between them.

The dye had been cast, they had turned down a dark and twisted road from which they could not turn back from.

"Violet, I love you, there's nothing I'd rather do than be with you, but I can't risk anything happening to you. I have to take care of Gabe, clean up the evidence, burn our clothes and wash up before morning. You're exhausted, it's important that no one notices anything different about you tomorrow, you need to get some rest."

Nodding, knowing he was right, and loving him for thinking of her first, she slipped deeper beneath the covers, suddenly feeling incredibly drowsy.

Secure in the knowledge that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her, Violet breathed out softly before falling fast asleep.

"I love you Tate, _always, forever._"

He stared at her for a long time, watching her breathe in and out, peaceful, beautifully. He knew in that moment that he'd protect her till his dying day, till there was no fight left in him.

She was his everything, his life, without her he wondered if his heart would cease altogether.

Backing out of her room, his eyes firmly set on her, Tate failed to notice Constance standing, hands on hips in the hall glaring straight at him.

Just as he closed the door he heard the familiar clink of ice cubes splashing around her crystal tumbler.

"What's wrong with the little princess now? Did someone have a bad dream? Are you her rescuer now, checking in on her like the big protective brother you are?"

Showing no sign of fear, Tate shrugged nonchalantly, "You forget, there's a vent connecting our rooms, she talks in her sleep, I thought she was in trouble… but yeah, it was just a nightmare."

Waving her glass of vodka around, spilling some on the floor, Constance rolled her eyes with an air of southern smugness that he disdained almost more than anything about her.

"Well I do declare my sweet charming boy, I believe having a little sister to look after has turned you into an upstanding, respectable, gentleman."

Pointing her finger in his face, she teetered back and forth, swaying from one foot to another, clearing drunk.

"I always knew you had it in you, that spark of kindness, a glimmer of compassion. You get that from me I hope you know, definitely not from that cheating son of bitch that planted his seed years ago and hasn't looked back since - "

Looking down at his arm, and the blood smeared along his skin, Tate pulled down his sleeve, hoping that between the booze and the darkened hallway she wouldn't notice.

"Ma, I think you should go back to bed, it's very late - "

Blinking back tears Constance barked back at him as she fell into the wall.

"You're goddamn right it's late! Too late for that husband of mine to be at the bedside of that harlot, mental illness my ass, she's milking that little pity party for all its worth, and he's soaking it all up! I swear to Christ if he …."

Helping her back to bed, Tate nodded in agreement to everything, barely listening, realizing how late it was, and how much work he still had left to do.

"...stroking his damn ego with all this horse shit head shrinking mumbo jumbo, I'm telling you… I'm … tell… tell… "

Tate got the drink out her hand right as she passed out, falling hard onto the bed.

Pulling the blankets over her, he turned her on her side just in case she started to vomit, something he had learned at far too young an age.

"Night Constance, sweet dreams you crazy old bitch."

Breathing out hard, sitting on the bed for a minute to gather himself, preparing for what he had to do, Tate finally made his way back down to the basement.

With the trunk of his mustang already lined with plastic, all he had to do now was dispose of the body, clean up the blood, and himself, get rid of the murder weapon, and burn their clothes.

Approaching the scene he tensed, his body stiffened, his skin became clammy as he looked down at Gabe staring up at him blankly.

He never saw a dead body before, certainly one murdered by his own hands.

It was different than on TV, there was no rising ethereal music, no easy fix, he had to get close and personal and it wasn't pretty.

Taking his switchblade he cut the bindings releasing his body from the chair.

With an echoing thud Gabe fell, limbs twisted the wrong way.

Tate held a hand over his nose as bodily fluids escaped, _no,_ this was nothing like a movie.

Rolling him in an area rug, fasted by duct tape and slip ties, Tate popped open the cellar door that folded out into the backyard, before quickly checking to see if anyone was around.

Using all his strength, Tate had to take several breaks finding it much harder than he imagined to lift Gabe's body up the stairs to the cellar door.

Every few minutes rolling flashes of headlights would light his face, causing him to duck down breathless, exhausted, drained in every way.

By the time he got him in his trunk, he was covered from head to toe in blood, slamming the door he was careful to wipe the outside of the car down.

It was almost dawn before he had removed the blood and other pieces of Gabe from the basement, there was almost nothing left in him, Tate barely had enough energy to climb the stairs.

Stripping in the bathroom, smelling of a mixture of bleach, blood, and sweat, his eyes focused on the checkered tile as a metal object fell onto the floor from his back pocket.

It was the key from Ben's office, the one hidden in the binding of the book, of the poem about Violet.

The poem that turned out to the be his password to his computer, something important, special to him.

Placing it on the sink he stepped into the shower watching almost in a trance as the bottom of the tub swirled forever in bright red circles.

Standing on the edge of their wooded back yard, staring into the flames of the grill, he waited till their clothes were nothing but ash, before burying the switchblade in a deep hole where no one would find it.

By the time he made it up to bed, it was time for school.

Dead on his feet, knowing he still had to dispose of Gabe's body, Tate took the risk and skipped school.

Leaving a note beside Violet, he fell into bed pulling covers over his head with the key tucked inside tight inside his palm.

_**V-**_

_**Feel sick, staying home today**_

_**Please go, for me, remember**_

_**What we talked about.**_

_**Text you when I get up.**_

_**love you, Tate**_

Running down the staircase in her catholic uniform, ponytail high on her hair, with a definite bounce in her step, Violet couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom.

It was only when she bumped into Ben, who was just getting in, that it seemed to fall away.

Recoiling immediately from him, her feet stumbled forward as he grabbed her by the wrists to pull her close.

"Whoa, hold on little girl, we need to talk, it seems like we keep missing each other."

Avoiding eye contact, Violet snapped her wrists from his grip, only to fall back against the kitchen counter hard, hissing in pain.

Agitated, she bit back, not caring what he did to her.

"That's what happens when you don't come home dad, seriously … it's only been a few months since you so earnestly spoke your vows, this has to be a record, even for you."

Raising his hand, intending to slap her hard across the face, Violet lifted her chin, daring him, ready to take the blow.

"Violet may be a little cheeky in her delivery, but she does have a point Ben, is there something we need to talk about?"

Hearing Constance's voice from the other side of the room, Violet took advantage of her presence ducking out beneath his arm, running out the door just in time to catch the city bus.

"Violet wait!"

Bracing his hands on the counter, Ben reared his head in his wife's direction.

"Actually, yes, I do have some news for you, good news in fact, very good news. There was a reason I was out all night - ."

Reaching for some aspirin, to combat her raging hangover, Constance shook her head.

"Please spare me the dirty details of your latest conquest Benjamin, I'm really not in the mood."

Chuckling softly, Ben curled his lips into a wide grin.

"Oh I promise you, this will make you very happy my love, my beautiful bride."

Sauntering up to her, Ben pulled her in his arms, pressing his lips close to her ear.

"Vivien… is dead."

Frozen, just around the corner, Tate's heart sank. Tears mixed with blinding rage filled his black eyes knowing Ben was ultimately responsible. He was devastated for Violet, broken inside, feeling the pain that had yet to find her.

Little did Tate know that there was more, so much more.

"Her inheritance check should clear right after the medical examiner finishes with her. You, my love, will soon own this house outright, you will never have to worry about anyone ever taking it away again."

Beaming with joy, Constance grabbed his cheeks to stare into his steel blue eyes.

"And what about our other plans?"

Smiling from ear to ear, Ben lifted her in the air, spinning her around.

"Violet has been successfully enrolled in that Swiss boarding school we talked about, she starts the new semester in two months, by that time Tate will be eighteen. We are so close my love… so close!"

Tate braced himself against the wall, his hands shaking visibly, blown away to the point of shock.

"Don't toy with me my sweet, sweet man of mine, this is too important. Tell me the truth Ben, tell me that all we planned for is finally coming to fruition"

Kissing her neck, he smiled into her skin mumbling softly.

"It is my dear, I promise you."

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**_Dinah, Gwenyth, Chris P.C., Sweet-chan96, thank you so much for your reviews :)_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Evergreen Cemetery**_

_**The funeral for Vivien Harmon**_

Threatening, fast moving clouds, black, and foreboding crept over the heads of the few that gathered to mourn the loss of Vivien Harmon.

A sea of weathered concrete angels, their heads hanging down in a state of endless sorrow, along with towering crosses symbolizing God's ultimate sacrifice of his love, were embedded in the rolling bright green hillside, dotted with large Oak trees of one of the oldest cemeteries in Los Angeles.

There at their feet her shiny black coffin blanketed with snow white lilies reflected the threatening storm as lightning flashed silently overhead.

A priest stood at the helm, his crisp white regal robe brushing along the edges of the grass below his feet as a large crucifix swung back and forth with every animated word flowing from his thin lipped crusty mouth. His voice echoed deep with theatrical inflections speaking of Jesus Christ's salvation, the glory of an act conveying three sweeping Angels coming down from Heaven to take her home.

With bible in hand, he spewed out sentimental, fairy tale nonsense in attempt to make sense of a young woman stripped of a life too soon, ripped from a daughter she so desperately loved.

_**"Vivien is a child of God, we must understand that only he holds the answers of his mysterious ways, that it is never our place to question his actions, but rather take comfort and renewed faith that there was a reason he has called her home, to exist in his paradise, in peace and everlasting love by his side."**_

Violet trembled visibly with a volatile cocktail of rage and indescribable grief, her violin slamming with quiet fury against her thigh again and again.

Tate, refusing to leave her side, held her hand tightly, gutted with guilt for not being able to save her mother in time.

He stroked her fingers tenderly, his heart broke with each passing second having to bear witness to Violet's inconsolable anguish, all along knowing that it was her father that was responsible for it all, that he delivered such unforgivable torment and misery to the girl he loved more than life itself.

As if it mattered, as if they cared, all in attendance eyed the half siblings with a suspicious eye, not able to deny that their display of intense affection reached passed the support of a sympathetic bother to his hurting sister.

Ironically it was their parents that seemed oblivious to Tate's overwhelming love that surrounded her in a warmth of protection.

One would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to have missed it, but then again we are talking Ben and Constance.

Two people so wrapped up in themselves, and their deviant plan, to even notice the devotion of a boy who would give his very life to the girl he held onto as if the very air he breathed would dissipate without her.

The Priest continued on while swinging back and forth his Thurible, a smoking canister suspended by chains that burned incense over the departed, symbolizing the sanctifying grace of the Holy Spirit and the prayers of the Saints rising to heaven.

This holy tradition only added to the mockery of her mother's murder, the elaborate farce contrived by the very husband that promised to honor and love her all the days of his life.

Violet's thoughts began to reach far beyond killing, to sadistic acts of violence with each passing moment.

**_"I beg of you to take solace in the knowledge that this once very troubled woman, struck down from a vital and rich life, taken hostage by a broken diseased mind, now lives on free in the light and forgiveness of our heavenly father."_**

Staring down at her black shoes that sunk into squishy dewy grass, Violet imagined herself ankle deep in sticky blood and viscera while screams of the ones responsible rang gloriously in her ears.

She could almost feel the warmth of it, the copper scent surrounding her, wafting up around her burning her nose, blanketing her pale skin into shiny bright red streaks.

Eyes swollen and red glared with seething hatred at her father who stood by his current wife who reeked of booze and Chanel perfume.

She was drunk and quite possibly high, wearing large round sunglasses and a ridiculous wide brimmed hat with a sheer dark veil that lifted up and down with the winds of the oncoming storm.

Ben was stoic, tight lipped with a consistent hard cold stare, seemingly unaffected by the death of the women he was married to for twenty years.

Dressed impeccably with his arm tucked securely around Constance's waist, mostly likely to keep her from toppling over, he seemed bored, impatient as if he was waiting in line at the bank.

It was a small gathering of mourners, fewer then she would've had if Ben hadn't ripped her from a productive happy life, dumping her against her will into an obscure world of isolation, filled with catatonic medications, surrounded by grey concrete walls hundreds of miles from family and friends.

Violet's Aunt and Uncle looked blindsided by the loss, shocked too moved by grief to speak at great length or to offer any real empathy towards their niece that they barely knew.

There were just three other people scattered around the awkward circle surrounding her mother's final resting place, all of whom Violet did not recognize.

It was Tate that noticed the tension between these strangers and Ben, each one of them avoiding his severe disapproving random glances as if they feared him in some way.

Three days of inconsolable hysterical hours of crying on Tate's shoulder had fused into a state of impenetrable sharp focus, a vision of precise glorious acts of vengeance that would not be swayed.

Violet formed her morbid plan of her father's unpleasant end, followed by Constance's painful descent into a hell that was so richly deserved to the tee in her mind.

Retribution consumed her like a shot of adrenaline on this day, keeping her going, giving her something to cling to as she listened to the addled mind, most likely petifile Priest droll on in an animated passionate prayer which seemed as rehearsed and fabricated as the words themselves.

_**"O God, by whose mercy the faithful departed find rest, bless this grave, and send your holy angel to watch over it … "**_

Something in Violet snapped at this point, throwing her precious violin that she intended on playing in honor of her mother to the ground, she pressed her palms on the coffin sickened to the point of madness.

Everyone looked up in shock as Violet shook her head with bitter disdain interrupting his holiness.

"**This is bullshit!** She didn't even believe in God! She would've hated this! She wanted to be cremated, have her ashes thrown into the ocean passed the dunes on cape cod, where she was her happiest, you couldn't even give her that much!"

Rushing to her, Tate rubbed her back tenderly, trying to encourage her gently to let go of the casket.

Spinning away from him, her dirty blonde hair wild around her face, she turned towards the one responsible, the one that would soon suffer unbearably.

She openly cried slamming her father's chest with her tiny hands as the onlookers gasped in shock.

Gazing over to Tate, she mouthed words that only he could see before storming off as tears streamed down her face.

_'I can't do this anymore.'_

Tate's dark sorrowful eyes filled with tears, struck hard by her misery, feeling absolutely useless to take it away, to put it onto himself, something that he'd do in second if he could.

Attempting contrived sympathy, faking harrowing loss, Ben broke away from Constance grabbing Violet's arm in a fruitless pursuit to get her to stay.

"Violet, honey…. _please_, you need to be with your family now, you have to accept that she is gone dear."

Ben's feigned concern for his rebellious heart stricken daughter, he held up a hand to everyone to calm the gasping small crowd, while he brushed away a fake tear from his eye twisting her gut.

It was all Violet needed to release her true feelings in a deafening guttural scream.

**"Fuck you asshole!"**

Her biting vicious words visibly stung Ben in a moment of sheer embarrassment, in his shallow world, where appearances meant everything, nothing could've be worse.

The thought of possibly sending her early to that boarding school was forefront in his mind as everyone's eyes shot to him suspiciously, wondering why his daughter held such vile animosity towards the only parent she had left.

As for Violet, she continued running, never looking back, rushing through rows of tombstones with Tate quickly following, after retrieving her violin.

Constance shook her head while tapping a long row of ashes from her cigarette releasing them on the ground, muttering belligerently under her breath.

"Well hells bells that girl sure does air on the side of the dramatic… if she were mine this behavior would not be tolerated, I will tell you that much! Spare the rod spoil the child is how I was raised, I mean for Christ sake she has no respect for - "

Squeezing his wife's hand roughly quieting her slurred offensive ramblings, Ben forced a weak smile while speaking through gritted teeth, clearly losing his patience with the entire situation as he glanced towards the stunned Priest who was clutching his bible to his chest.

"We need to show some compassion darling, she's in pain, this is just her way of dealing with a truly devastating loss… we all grieve in our own way, we need to respect her process."

Ignoring his wife's fiery stare as lightning streaked across the sky above them releasing the occasional raindrop and distant clap of thunder, Ben worked hard to get a sense of decorum back to the ceremony that was in desperate need to be over with at this point.

"Please Father Cusack, continue. I apologize for my daughter's insolent behavior, In my heart I know without a doubt that it was Vivien's faith that gave her peace at the very end. She was a very spiritual person who would indeed feel very blessed by your profound and passionate sermon."

Stomping quickly in her black laced boots while the edges of her long black dress dragged through mud in her rush to get away, Violet disappeared into a thick ominous fog just over a small hill lined with large Oak trees.

Branches hung low just over Tate's head dripping rainwater, plastering his flaxen hair onto the pale skin of his forehead shadowing his dark emotion filled eyes.

Panicking, beyond worried for her, he felt as though he couldn't breathe.

Loosening the tie around his neck, while stripping off his suit jacket, he once again whispered her name, afraid of startling her.

Just then the sky opened up, releasing sideways sheets of torrential rain instantly soaking him from head to toe.

"Violet."

Cautiously listening to every sound, desperate to find her, unable to see in any direction due to a haunting thick mist, he suddenly felt a strong hand grab his arm pulling him backwards through a heavy stone door of a mausoleum.

Stumbling inside the dark burial chamber it took his vision a few seconds to adjust before finding her folded into herself in the corner.

She was shivering, tears in a steady stream slipping down her face, her bottom lip swollen and red from her sharp teeth ripping into her tender flesh almost needing to hurt herself.

Breathless he lifted his wet blonde hair away from his eyes while leaning her violin carefully against the wall.

Unable to stay away from her any longer her took two long strides before pulling her roughly into his arms.

Bending down he nuzzled her neck grasping her hair, wrapping it around his hand holding her as close as possible.

His mouth slid slowly to her ear, breathing her in, so caught up in her, lost to the world around him, which was all he wanted.

He was barely able to get out his soft, husky voice, thick with emotion as he clung to her wanting to never let go.

"Violet… you scared me…. I lost you in the fog… I lost you… fucking hell I thought I lost you..."

Her hands slid down the sides of his drenched button up dress shirt as she backed away despondently, holding her head that was spinning as years of memories splintered through her.

Leaning on a large elaborately etched crypt she sighed, digging her nails into her scalp.

Pounding her fists on the large stone coffin in despair feeling lost, she couldn't bare to feel this way any longer, it was truly killing her.

Her voice, hoarse from crying, sounding small and weak, filled the small tomb piercing straight into his heart like a knife.

It was raw, vulnerable, as if she was letting him see a part of her she kept secret, hidden from the world, even from him.

It was crushing to see her this way, the pain almost intolerable.

"I can't do this Tate… I can't… I just … I can't believe she's really... _gone_."

Breathing deeply, his soaked shirt stuck to his chest as it rose and fell quickly, searching for the right words to comfort her, to soothe her in any way.

"_Violet_ \- "

Just then they heard Father Cusack's deep voice slice through the intimate moment between them.

Her hands rushed to her ears trying to block it out as she collapsed onto the tombed stone coffin.

Thunder now bellowed directly over head, shaking the ground beneath their feet as blinding white light shone through an oval stain glassed window above them.

Colors swirled over her face, spiraling down upon her, scarlet red, sapphire blue, emerald green.

Tate was frozen, mesmerized, his muscles tense, blinded by her beauty, by the love, the unbreakable bond that he felt now more than ever.

He knew unequivocally in that moment that he could never let her go, to live without her would be a death sentence in itself, or worse a gateway to a hell he would never survive.

Lifting her face to the ceiling hearing the Priest something broke inside her, something she knew instinctively could never be healed.

Violet knew she'd never be the same, life as she knew it would be forever changed, that a darker, more insidious path awaited her, one that she'd walk together with him hand in hand.

The two would become one in mind and spirit, burning the world to the ground, bathing in the ashes left behind in their wake like the ocean waves, eternal justice, so sweet and sublime.

She could almost taste their descent into damnation like pennies on her tongue.

Oh how the wicked would pay.

Lifting her black boots upon the stone slab, she laid back, letting her golden tresses slip down over the sides as she raised her hand out towards him, inviting him to join her.

Agony sliced like blades into her skin, burning like fire, the pain excruciating, the hole inside endless, a bottomless pit, that would never be filled.

She was desperate for a reprieve, a stay of execution, a brief pardon from a reality she still could not fully accept.

Her tone was that of someone suffocating, each word a strangled harsh effort released in an anguished plea.

"Please… help me… make me feel … anything … _anything_ other than … this, _please_ Tate."

His body shook, his heart slammed hard against his ribs, so hard he thought they would break into pieces as he nodded slowly willing himself to move.

Stripping his shirt off, his skin wet, water droplets falling over her as he took his place between her legs, gently parting them with his knee.

Releasing his belt, lowering his pants, releasing himself he hovered over her, staring down into eyes that were begging, pleading to be touched.

Taking in a sharp breath she heard the Priest as if he was speaking directly into her ear, his prophetic words tore into her like teeth ripping away all that was good and pure.

Hearing the prayer, she could deny it no more.

Her mother was gone… _forever_.

Nodding urgently she wrenched roughly fist fulls of his drenched hair tight in her hand while pulling her dress high to her waist exposing trembling delicious curves to his waiting view.

Porcelain flesh ready for the taking bucked with sensual strides beneath him.

Slick to the touch, the scent of sex and rain infiltrated his nose as it flared like an animal, leaving him defenseless to be anything but gentle and restrained.

Lowering his eyes, turned jet black with desire over the sight of her panting shivering body, he was determined to exorcise her demons as he ripped her cotton panties from her hips tossing them to the ground.

Her head fell back hard as he slipped three long fingers inside curling them just right causing her to claw at his arms, releasing a strangled moan that rivaled the relevance the Holy man bellowing in her ear.

_**"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake."**_

Tearing her dress he sucked hungrily at her aching nipple as the tip of his finger teased her clit with feathered barely there flicks and tight little circles.

Crying out as the first of many climaxes ripped through her, Violet's knees bent clamping around his hips begging for him to come inside.

Kissing her hard, his mouth lowered marking her neck as his soaked blonde mop slid down her body.

He wasn't ready to give into her just yet.

Not when there was so much more to take, to taste, to devour.

Her back arched high as high pitched screams pierced the stone walls.

He lashed at her unforgivingly, lavishing her sex, fucking her with his tongue as his thumb danced along her pulsating clit until she was convulsing hard, trapping him happily between soaked shaky thighs.

_**"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."**_

"Now… _please_… **fuck me now**…"

Faster then she was prepared for he buried himself deep inside letting out a strangle cry as his fingers dug mercilessly into her hips.

His arms trembled on either side of her as he peered down into her eyes forcing her to look at him, to watch as he silently conveyed the truth of his feelings for her that would never change.

Moving inside with purposeful, calculated strides deep and slow she softened beneath him, understanding just how deep his love could be, how she would never ever be alone again.

_**"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."**_

Speeding up he drifted his fingertips along her mascara smudge cheeks, along her throat, over her quivering breast, down her flat stomach that flexed with each snap of his hips till he reached his destination.

Stroking her with a flurry of his fingertips, he fucked her hard and fast while he sucked her bottom lip before suddenly slowly everything down.

With them both hovering on the edge of oblivion he whispered six words against her mouth that made her cum harder then she ever had before.

**"We'll fucking tear them apart Violet."**

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**_Dinah, Gwenyth, Chris P.C., ThatWeirdChick, Misty 1994, Lord Asmodeus, thank you so much for your reviews :)_**

_**I apologize if I offended anyone with strong religious views in this chapter, it was never my intention to disrespect anyone. **_


	15. Chapter 15

Emotions were running high for everyone in the house after the days following Vivien's funeral.

Secrets hidden behind distrusting eyes lurked behind every door of the classic LA Victorian Mansion.

Violet especially spent her time in a maddening state restlessly devising intricate plans for her father and his hellion wife.

Beethoven's Requiem for a Dream played on a loop in her ears, in her mind the beauty of his music was the perfect pairing to the divine torture she was planning for them both.

Unable to keep still, against her father's advice, she threw herself back into her normal routine of school and practice.

Her nights were spent either in the basement in a hidden room on a cot, or their special stretch of beach in Tate's arms, the only place she felt safe enough to let her emotions run free.

They had become experts at sneaking away from prying ears, or even on special occasions out of the house in the middle of the night, not that Ben and Constance made it hard.

Between Ben's new fascination with a rare case of a beautiful young patient with multiple personality disorder along with suicidal tendencies, coupled with a strong addiction to sex, and Constance's obsession with becoming younger, with the newest procedures having to do with everything from face lifts to liposuction - both were conveniently - distracted.

It stood to reason that they both considered their children problems that would soon be neatly taken care of.

With Violet all registered for a boarding school in Switzerland, and Tate turning eighteen around the same time, a few months from now, neither parent figured they had much to worry about.

By then Vivien's insurance check would have cleared and Constance would own the only thing she really cared about free and clear, her beautiful home.

Violet would be far, far away, unable to even voice an opinion, and Tate, well he would be quietly ushered out of the house, fazed out of their lives.

Being of legal age Constance was no longer legally bound to take care of him, in her mind it would be her time. She had sacrificed her entire life for him, cast away the best years of her life to raise him, stayed with a man who betrayed her, humiliated her.

She felt she was entitled, owed this moment in the sun with her new husband, in the home that was always meant to be hers, forever.

**vTv**

Violet was hell bent on revenge at any cost. Tate, worried that she would strike out in blind rage, not in the best interest of her own safety, kept a close eye on her refusing to let any harm come to her.

He watched her like a hawk, protectively, possessively, lovingly, always where she was, but skillfully unseen.

From her classes to lunch in the cafeteria where she sat alone listening to her music, eyes closed, fingers moving slightly as if she were playing, he watched.

Staying far behind but close enough to ensure her safety he followed as school ended and she made her way to her music teacher in the empty building on the edge of campus.

He sat spellbound outside in the grass beneath a cracked window during her violin lesson, his heart breaking at her emotional rendition of Vivaldi.

Anger, sorrow, passion, unrelenting beauty flowed from her body into her delicate fingers that directed the bow along strings that released her emotions violently out into the world.

Dark eyes watched as she played with breathtaking speed shredding the hairs of her bow as she ravaged her instrument with her fervent soul.

Her teacher was blown away, speechless, lost as to the change from a young girl, a mere child, to a woman on the brink of something dark, foreshadowing intentions too sinister to comprehend.

Rising to stand he turned towards her outside the window pane, his palms resting on the glass, his ragged breath fogging her image to a dreamlike state, lost in her, to her fierce beauty, to the woman that was unraveling before his eyes.

She had never played with such perfection, emotion poured out of her as if a secret door had been opened giving a view of a whirlwind of anger that seethed inside.

Tate was moved to say the least as he made his way into the empty building, waiting with great anticipation outside her door, unable to remain just a voyeur satisfied to observe from the outside any longer.

His chest heaved impatiently as he hid watching as her instructor gathered his things and left the building.

Inside she gently, with great care, tucked her violin in its velvet lined case before grabbing her backpack to leave.

Sweat broke out along his forehead dampening the ends of his blonde waves that feathered across intense eyes as he reached for her arm startling her as she turned out into the empty hallway.

Jerking momentarily away from him, shocked by his presence, her face lit up with happiness to see him.

"Tate! What are you doing here?"

Silently he took off down the checkered floor looking for a private spot, one where they were sure not to be disturbed.

Understanding his intentions she took the lead bringing them down into a storage room in the basement of the school.

Struggling to catch her breath she loosened the tie around her neck, a part of her catholic uniform she was forced to wear.

His eyes had gone from dark brown to feral black as he backed her against the wall with two long aggressive strides.

There was a lack of air in the dusty room, a heavy dense heat that surrounded them as the tips of his fingers lingered along the hem of her plaid skirt.

He was shivering with need now, his lips parted, panting lightly as he set his gaze upon her body, from her black Mary Jane shoes, up along her white knee socks to the short skirt that was clearly too small for the very strict regulations of the school - Violet, always feeling the need to break the rules.

Placing her violin case down on the floor, his stare fell to the skin exposed to him when she had released the first three buttons of her shirt.

Her dark blue tie hung loose down upon her chest as her plain white cotton bra peaked out revealing the swell of her small breasts.

Her messy fair hair was wild from playing, splayed across her face, the pink flush of her cheeks, the swollen red bottom lip from where her teeth had sunk into as she stared back at him waiting for him to touch her.

With ragged breath she licked her dry lips before whispering his name shakily.

"Tate."

Drunk off of her, he grabbed a hold of the end of her tie pulling her closer, pressing his forehead against her temple as his eyes slid shut.

Ever so slowly he let go of her tie to release each button of her white dress shirt that was bunched up at the arms.

His husky uneven breath puffed along her cheek as his palm drifted over her stomach unlatching the front clasp to her bra with ease.

The musty scent around them was suffocating, the air getting hotter with each passing second, drenching them both with sweat as he swept along her hardened peak causing an audible moan from deep within her throat.

Stepping closer, parting her legs he ghosted his mouth along her neck while his hands lifted her skirt to remove her soaked white cotton underwear.

Trembling small hands fumbled with his belt as her head fell back against the wall, her attention taken away by his insistent kisses that rained down along the valley between her breasts.

Her palms slammed against the wall by her side as he teased one rosy bud, lavishing her with the tip of his tongue until she was begging him to touch her.

A sinful grin curved along his boyish face revealing dimples that drove her to the edge.

Breathing hard he brushed his mouth to hers, asking her exactly what it was that she wanted.

"Tell me Violet."

She felt dizzy, overheated, unsteady, as if her legs would at any moment fail to hold her up.

Lifting his sweater along with the long sleeve shirt beneath, over his head, messing his flaxen curls making him appear even more beautiful, she sighed shakily.

"Touch me."

Sweeping his fingertips along the inside of her thighs, almost there, but not quite, he spoke again, velvety and smooth like a far off dream.

"I am touching you Violet."

Her skin was wet with sweat now, quivering before him, completely at his mercy as her shirt slipped from her shoulders down the middle of her back.

Her toes pointed inward as she tried to quell the ache pulsating between her legs with no success.

Opening her bourbon eyes wide, she smoothed her hands up along his torso, relishing his toned muscles until she reached the ends of his unruly hair.

Curling her fingers around the back of his hair, she teetered back and forth upon her shiny shoes whispering one solitary word.

"Please."

Pressing her hard against the wall he nudged her thighs apart with his knee before cupping her sex fully, shocking her from the unexpected abrupt absence of his previous teasing.

Inwardly pleased by just how much she was dripping down the inside of her thighs for him, he immediately slid two long fingers inside, stroking her slowly, curling the tips with purposeful intent.

It only took a few swipes of his thumb across her clit before she was boneless, convulsing in his arms, his name a continuous chant under her breath.

Needing desperately to be inside, he lifted her effortlessly impaling himself harshly within her, his fingers leaving dark purple bruises on her cheeks as he dug into her flesh wanting all of her.

Grunting out his powerful orgasm he shook hard, her name a guttural cry buried in her neck, in the nest of her silky knotted strawberry scented hair.

**vTv**

Arriving home at different times to avoid suspicion, Tate peered up the stairs to hear Violet in her room blaring her music.

Walking backwards down to the first floor, he noted Constance busy on the phone with her sister in Virginia, rambling on about her latest wrinkle removal treatment.

With Ben gone at the hospital, he pulled out the key from his back pocket that he had found in the binding of a book of poems days before, nearly forgotten with all the trauma that had occurred.

Glancing up the at the red hard covered book, he thought of the poem that was earmarked, the page worn, as if read many times entitled 'The Violet'.

Looking over his shoulder making sure he was alone, he tried the key in all of the drawers of Ben's desk that were locked with no luck.

Collapsing in his large black leather chair, Tate leaned back lazily slowly spinning around till his eyes caught a file cabinet in the corner of the room hidden by a large potted plant.

The first three drawers yielded no luck, it was only until he knelt down and tried the last one that the metal cabinet drawer slid open.

Stilling once again until he heard his mother's voice from the kitchen, and Bach coming from upstairs, he reached in to find a binder secured with an elastic band.

Sitting with his legs crossed up against the wall he pulled out several Polaroid pictures.

Everything suddenly went silent around him, except for the pounding of his heart in his ears as he viewed Violet at different ages, which were carefully dated on the back with black marker.

The images were beyond disturbing, semi nude snapshots, a perversion of innocence too twisted to comprehend.

Dressed up and posed in different costumes, a princess, ballerina, dresses meant for someone well beyond her years.

Confusion pained her sad eyes as she seemed to beg for help, for a shred of understanding of what was happening to her.

Feeling sick, his hands shook as he flipped each one over noticing that they were detailed with the date and age they were taken, some even titled with perverse remembrances obviously meant for his eyes only.

_**April 2007, age 9, Violet in springtime **_

**_August 2008, age 10, My darling Ballerina_**

**_December 2009, age 11, New years eve, daddy's secret wish for things to come_**

Tate rifled through several of the photos until he could no longer handle the agony in her eyes staring back at him, the hopeless glare of a lost little girl helpless to fight the monster behind the camera.

Rising to his feet in an almost catatonic state, he shoved the pictures in his back pocket before making his way up to her room.

Ignoring Constance along the way as she inquired about the state of his laundry piling on his bedroom floor, he felt the world around him spin out of control.

Air expelled from his nose like a bull ready to charge, his mind gone, left to unsavory places where only true evil lived.

Hearing Ben's car pull into the driveway, he stilled his hovering sneaker in the air, his head slowly turned towards the beast that defiled his love, his reason for breathing in and out, for existing in this world.

A soft gasp resonated from the top of the staircase, in an instant she knew spotting the distinct Polaroids sticking out from his back pocket.

Staring at his distorted face, twisted into the very image of mad blinding fury, she panicked knowing he was out of his mind, petrified that he'd do something rash and end up in jail, destroying any future of them together.

Gripping the banister tight Violet verbally expelled the word 'no' as her eyes flew towards the door.

The doorknob began to turn as Tate curled his hands into fists by his side, abandoning all sense of logic and reason.

Tears welled in her eyes, the unthinkable had become reality, years of secrets and unbearable shame revealed, uncovered, by the one person she prayed would never know.

Strolling in with his Gucci briefcase in hand, Ben caught Tate's crazed expression freezing him in his tracks.

Somewhere in the distance he heard his name whispered, an urgent request, a desperate plea.

"Please... Tate… _don't_."

**tvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtv**

**_Dinah, Gwenyth, Chris P.C., and guest, thank you so much for your reviews :)_**

**_As always, replies are greatly appreciated :)_**


	16. Chapter 16

Tate felt as if he was out of his body, standing in the corner of the room, watching himself, a third party to the violence that was about to ensue, an enthusiastic witness to the carnage, the murderous rampage building inside.

Mayhem, total utter chaos festered in his veins demanding to be released as he stood frozen, unable to move or speak other than the occasional twitch that would shake the ends of his blonde waves.

Suddenly his breathing became erratic, his pulse jumped to triple digits, his blood boiled in an eruption of epic heights.

It rose up from his belly rushing through his veins, straight into his throat like a runaway freight train, until it finally broke through to the surface.

Savagely he lunged at Ben roaring like an animal headbutting him so hard that the older man flew back against the front door with a hard thump cracking the wood.

_**"Tate!"**_

Violet screamed running down the stairs, almost knocking into Constance who emerged from the kitchen, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, to see what all the noise was about.

_**"My door**,** my beautiful mahogany door is ruined!"**_ she exclaimed as her booze sloshed over the rim the glass onto the floor.

Groaning Violet's father fell flat on his back, leaving him to stare up at the ceiling dazed, his head throbbing in pain.

His briefcase had burst open, papers flew everywhere, like feathers floating down around them all.

Feeling nothing, blood trickled down between Tate's eyes veering off to the right making it's way down his handsome features like a crimson tear.

Giving him no time to react, Tate was on him, sitting on his chest, throwing one crushing blow after another in rapid successions, mildly aware of Violet and Constance in the distance yelling obscenities, begging him to stop.

Ben's blood was splattered across the walls, peppering the still boy looking on practically foaming at the mouth at his twins brutal assault.

A willing voyeur to the hostel outbreak, the boy smiled widely showing rows of bright white teeth and adorable dimples as if overjoyed by the scene taking place before him.

A deep guttural growl raged from Tate as he wedged his forearm hard against Ben's throat pinning his body to the floor.

A deranged grin lifted along one side of his mouth as he reached for his switchblade from his back pocket.

Holding it high in the air he flipped it open so Ben could clearly see the shiny blade bearing down over his face.

Aiming it for his eye, Tate shoved his forearm harder against Ben's windpipe, which left him choking, gasping for air.

His twin clasped his hands together in delight, reeling back on his heels rooting Tate on.

_**"Do it! Do it!"**_

Hearing his encouraging words, Tate went to bring his blade down, only to feel a strangle resistance holding his arm in place.

Violet had him, holding on tight with both hands, begging him to stop and think.

**_"Tate! Stop! Please, you're ruining everything!"_**

The third party in this deranged trio scowled, shaking his head. **_"You pussy whipped piece of shit! Finish what you fucking started!"_**

Glaring wildly into the steel blue reflection of Ben's eyes, Tate vibrated with fury trying again to ram the knife forward, only to once again feel something holding him back.

_**"Tate!"**_

**_"Tate! I'm begging you, don't! Please!"_**

"Tate?"

"Tate?"

"Tate? It's me Violet."

"Tate, can you hear me?"

As if slowly being pulled out a dream, Tate blinked several times to find himself standing back where he had first seen Ben coming through the door, at the base of the stairs.

Only now Violet was there too, clutching his arm, speaking softly, shaking him gently urging him out of what had been several minutes where he was completely unresponsive.

Confused, he looked to Ben who was untouched, perfectly fine still holding his briefcase, only now staring back at him with suspicion, recognizing signs of a physiological or pharmaceutical impairment.

"What's wrong with him Violet? Is it drugs? Tate! What did you take?"

Tate opened and closed his hand confused, still feeling the handle of the switchblade within his palm.

Thinking quickly Violet laughed, "Yeah right dad, Tate's stoned out of his mind, his dealer just left the house, if you hurry you can catch him… please, it's just Benadryl. I gave it to him for his allergies, I must of read the dosage wrong, he's been a zombie for like an hour now, such a baby."

Swirling ice cubes around her vodka filled glass, Constance cleared her throat catching everyone's attention in the entrance of the kitchen.

"I hope you're getting compensated for all the extra hours you've been logging with that young pretty whack job at the hospital, I'd hate to think you're giving all that charming bedside gallantry away for free darling."

"Oh come on Constance, how many times are you going to put me through this! You know that my patients are my responsibility, I can't just leave because my bored little wife at home demands my attention! "

Almost immediately an argument broke out between their parents, which gave Violet the perfect chance to get Tate upstairs and into her room.

Rushing to the bathroom she ran a washcloth under cold water before returning to lock the door behind her.

Tate sat in a haze, his palms resting on his thighs nearly catatonic on the bed staring at a blank space on the wall still witnessing himself pummeling Ben's face over and over.

Blotting the cold washcloth on his forehead she gently whispered to him, terrified that the discovery of her horrid secret had broken him.

"Tate, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Unmoved by her voice, she took the opportunity to reach into his back pocket to remove the vile Polaroids, shoving them quickly between her mattress.

Again trying, she pressed the wet cloth against his forehead, still hearing the vicious outbursts raging downstairs.

"Tate, can you hear me? It's me, Violet, I'm right here with you, I really need you to wake up now."

It was almost as if he was fixated on something, unable to tear himself away from a thought or a picture in his mind.

Becoming scared Violet knelt down on the floor between his legs and grabbed his hands resting her head on his lap.

Her voice broke, her words barely audible.

"Tate, please … _please_ just say something, _anything_."

He could hear her far off in the distance, a dreamy echo of a place he wanted to return to, but couldn't.

It was only when he felt her climb up on his lap to wrap her slender limbs around his body, that the fog began to lift.

"Come back to me, come back to me, come back to me."

Sweeping her lips along his neck, she breathed out the same words on a loop until she felt his hands smooth up along her back bringing her in close, snug to his chest.

Burying his damp blonde waves over his eyes inside her neck, Tate breathed out slowly, realizing what had happened.

"I'm sorry Violet, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I don't understand, it was like you were just… gone."

Holding her more securely, he brushed his lips to her temple while stroking her hair, hoping that what he was about to say wouldn't freak her out.

"After my dad left... I started having _episodes_… moments where I would lose time, like a dream I'd remember only fragments of it afterwards... vivid pictures in my mind committing very… violent acts."

Her arms were tight around his neck, her body like a clamp that would have to be pried away forcefully to be removed, but that was far from what he wanted.

Just then he caught a glimpse of it, one of the Polaroids that had slipped from the hiding spot between her mattress.

Tears flooded his eyes staring down at the photo of the lost little girl that would have to wait years to be rescued.

"i'm so sorry Violet."

Grasping the back of his hair she shh'd him, "It's doesn't matter, you're back with me now, it's not your fault."

Angling his cheek against hers, she felt his tears, noticing the rapid beat of his heart hammering against her chest.

"I'm not apologizing for the blackout. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to save you sooner, to make him pay back then, but that is all going to change Violet. He will _never_ hurt you again."

Following his eye line she saw the picture of her nine year old self sitting on the dinning room table, legs spread, wearing her pink tutu and nothing else, while her arms crossed protectively around her tiny body.

A watery stare looked up into the eyes of the man behind the camera, questions looming in her hazel gaze, trust broken, innocence lost.

It was evil incarnate.

"You can't even begin to imagine what I am going to do to him."

His voice was deep and dark, far more sinister and controlled than when he tied Gabe to the chair in the basement and plunged a knife into his belly.

Knowing that the time for secrets was over, Violet nodded, before pulling back to look into his eyes.

"Tonight, when they're asleep I need to show you something I found in the basement... it's about your father Tate. Constance lied to you, he never left you... i'm not sure he ever even left this house."

Before Tate could react sirens blared outside while two uniform officers banged loudly on the front door.

Running to the window, they could see another circling the house inspecting the surroundings.

Rushing to the stairs they found two cops asking Ben to come down to the station.

Infuriated, Violet's father tried to brush them off.

"What do you mean he's missing? I haven't spoken to Gabe in days, I have no idea where he is, this is completely uncalled for. Besides, kids take off all the time, he probably just got in a fight with his dad and needed to blow off steam, I'm sure he's fine."

Officer Daniels nodded politely before directing their attention to the front door.

"We found a threatening email sent from your computer the night before his disappearance, we need to ask you a few questions, now please it would be better if you came willingly down to the station, we would hate to use force in front of your family."

Glaring up to the second floor, Ben gave a long hard stare at Tate before walking to the front door with Constance close behind flipping out about lawyers and suing the department.

Hearing the door slam shut, Tate's head spun from the avalanche of discoveries that had crushed him in barely an hour.

"Violet, they found Gabe's body, they never would've dragged him down to the station otherwise."

Gripping his mop of hair in his fingers, pulling it hard from its roots, he grunted with distress.

"God damn it, I was so careful! I dumped the body where no one would find it, how the fuck did this happen!"

Confused Violet calmly stood by him as he paced nervously back and forth.

"Wait, I don't understand, isn't this what we want? If they arrest my dad for Gabe's murder, his life will be over."

Walking her back against the wall, Tate swept his hand tenderly along her cheek, staring down at her with nothing but love and devotion.

"You don't understand, I can't allow him to go to jail. Your father... is mine now. The things I am going to do to him... the lengths that he will suffer? Oh my beautiful Violet, I promise you it will make the devil himself cower and hide."

A thrilling feeling of redemption rushed through her as he took her hand leading her downstairs to the basement door.

Turning to face her, holding on by a thread, he lifted his swollen red eyes slowly to meet her.

It was then she realized that deep inside Tate always held on to the hope that his dad was still alive.

She was about to shatter him, break his heart beyond repair.

In that moment, Violet knew that when the time came, _she_ would demand to be the one to tear Constance to shreds, to make her bleed, may her pay for the agony she caused her only child, her beautiful son.

In the end they would kill for each other, slain the guilty, find vindication in the strength, the impenetrable bond of their love.

His voice faltered as he turned the doorknob and started down the stairs with her close behind.

"They won't be back for a long time_._.. I can't wait till tonight. I'm ready now Violet, tell me what you've found. What did she do to my father?"

**tvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtv**

**_Dinah, Gwenyth, Chris P.C., and guest, thank you so much for your reviews :)_**

**_As always, please, if possible leave a reply :) _**


	17. Chapter 17

Far into the basement, cobwebbed, filthy from years of neglect, dank and dark, terrifying truths awaited.

Numb, Tate shuffled his worn sneakers closer to the hell that awaited him.

Placing her hand upon his thumping heart, Violet whispered nervously with concern that far outreached her need for vengeance, suddenly worried that this could possibly break him beyond the point of return.

It was clear at this point to him that his father was gone forever, murdered by his mother, the lying whore that had been a source of manipulation and lies his entire pathetic life.

"Are you sure … we don't have to do this tonight… we really don't have to do it at all. You know enough, let's just go upstairs, I can draw a bath for you - let me - "

"No."

His response was barely a breath released between two shivering lips that resembled a child's plea.

His conviction, albeit grief stricken, was clear, he needed to see for himself, to believe, to accept.

It was too late to turn back, his emotion filled eyes were already fixated on the loosened brick, the one no one would suspect, one that only a vodka soaked black hearted monster would've use as a hiding place.

**mommy**

**daddy**

**love**

**tate**

He remembered carving the words with his pocket knife while they fought upstairs, it was meant to comfort his little five year old fears of abandonment, but only managed to get him a smack across the head when she found it later that week.

Once a memory of childhood loneliness, it now it served as a tiny tomb of secrets, a time capsule of his father's last moments on Earth.

Tiny cracks appeared in the glue that held Tate together as flashes of his dad flew behind his closed eyes.

Thoughts of despair, of responsibility, of death, spiraled out of control, each fighting for dominance, shouting over each other, demanding his attention, driving him mad.

**'You should've known.'**

**'You could've saved him.'**

**'You should've been home.'**

**'Stupid, clueless waste, you dickless fucker!**

**' YOU - let - this - happen.'**

**' Your fault.'**

**' Your fault.'**

**' Your fault.'**

Tears of regret, sadness, loss, hovered over long eyelashes casting a shimmer of light in the endless dark abyss of eyes too beautiful to be real in this putrid world.

With a trembling hand he slowly reached up pulling the grey brick from the wall mocking him as the fool that he felt he was.

It was then that Violet realized that this wasn't just about Constance and her murderous rampage, Tate was now faced with the irrefutable truth that he would never, ever, see his father again, something that up till now remained a sliver of hope that had lived somewhere safe inside him.

In her blind obsession to seek revenge on parents that should've protected them, that should've loved them, and kept them safe, Violet lost sight of the irreversible damage this would cause him.

"Tate… wait - "

His sweater shook from the hammering of his torn heart as his father's shirt appeared, blood stained, wrapped up tight hidden away in a small hole meant never to be discovered.

His face was contorted, twisted in agony as he unraveled the material to reveal the murder weapon.

Shiny, sharp, the deadly dagger fell to the cellar floor.

A six inch blade still caked with the dried blood of his father.

He winced at the noise it made as the tip pierced the floor bouncing several times, from the point to the metal handle, back and forth until finally coming to rest in front of him.

A ragged breath left Tate's strained lungs as he fell hard to his knees.

A veil of dust mushroomed up around his slender body floating lightly along his beautiful pale skin like mist surrounding an angel.

His jaw went slack as he began to sob, his shoulders rose and fell as he hung his head in his hands, taking on all the blame, convinced that somehow he could've saved him.

Violet knelt beside him feeling helpless as he gripped the ends of his blonde waves tightly rocking his lanky body back and forth.

Desperate to force the images from his mind, Tate beat the sides of his head with closed fists wanting to inflict as much pain as possible, needing to be punished, to feel anything, absolutely anything besides this.

Violet grabbed his wrists placing her body directly in front of him, now wavering on her decision to show him what could now never be unseen.

"Tate stop!"

Straining against her grip he quieted, his shoulders lowering in defeat, a rattled breath whispered her name as their eyes met.

Tilting his head he stared deep inside her searching for comfort as he wiped away tears with the sleeves of his sweater that stretched over his hands as he sunk deep inside himself.

Both breathless they were exhausted from a hellish day of buried secrets scratching their way to the surface like razored claws ripping into flesh.

Crying for him, for all that he had lost, for the pain that she felt as if it was her own, because it was, Violet took him in her arms, she was stronger, tougher, harder inside, she knew this now, and that was okay.

She would protect him, lead him into the dark, bring him into that black void that would finally free them from the monsters that raped them of their innocence.

He would follow her when the time came, see this tale to its bloody end.

This she knew without question, they were one in the same, no longer victims but hero's in their own fuck up romantic way, righting the wrong, seeking out righteous vengeance against the sick and depraved, their molesters, abusers, killers.

Tate fisted her hair finding safety in her nest of dirty blonde tresses, breathing her in as if she was his oxygen, his life.

Feeling her heart beat against his chest like a stampede of horses he was pulled from the depths, dragged to the surface to break the murky waters of his sadness, his hate, back to life, back to her.

As if able to breathe again, he gasped harshly worried that he would be pulled under again, he whispered softly.

"Violet … g-get me out of here."

Nodding, she pulled him from her as she cleaned up the evidence.

Wrapping up the knife back in his father's button up shirt, she knew she had no choice but to leave the crime scene as they found it.

Constance could know nothing, they had to be careful, especially now, when they were so close to the end.

After bandaging his knuckles she placed him in the car before quickly getting behind the wheel.

It was their ocean where she was headed, their solace, the place where she could lift him up, make him strong again.

Laying against the seat, he angled his face toward the open window, where cool air drifted across his youthful face as his hair whipped wildly around like a halo above his head.

His eyes fixated on the streetlights passing by like fireworks in reverse.

His tired bones sunk into leather heavy and weak as if all his strength had been drained.

Violet gripped the steering wheel, eyeing him nervously as much as possible while navigating the sharp curves along the cliff leading to the sea.

Stripped of truths too hideous to ponder she felt strangely relieved that he now knew everything.

The burden of her abusive childhood that threatened her still was no longer her weight to carry, beyond that she wanted no secrets between them, nothing to hide.

In a way their tragic lives bonded them, two broken pieces that together were made whole through a flawed fate that sought out to individually tear them apart only fate didn't count of love, on them.

Constance and Ben were now powerless, and soon would pay for their sins in ways that neither of them could ever imagine.

It felt right, justified, powerful.

Pulling up the darkened edge of the bluff they could hear the aimless white capped waves crashing below, calling them closer.

Memories, twisted and tangled flickered behind his blank stare as she led him down the narrow path to the sandy beach.

Her fingers curled around his like a vine tight and strong, her voice easy and low was far off in the distance, he knew now more than ever that she was his anchor, his savior.

Spreading out a blanket along the sand she eased him down as tall sea grass wavered back and forth encircling their private cove.

Sitting, knees raised, hands pressing into crushed shells he stared off into rolling endless ripples of the vast ocean before him.

Kicking off her sneakers she raised her long skirt sinking down behind him wrapping her arms around his waist laying her head against the curve of his spine.

Warm fingers found themselves beneath the layers of his clothes, lightly strumming his ribcage like the strings of her precious violin.

Senses spun around him like a cocoon shutting all the ugliness out.

Salty cool air, Violet's sweeping breath in sync with the ebb and flow of the tide, the coarse sand beneath his fingertips, it brought everything in focus like never before.

A plan was forming, a future was evolving, after death there would be a rebirth, a kind of paradise for them, a world resembling a blissful eden too beautiful for the written word.

He would make it happen for them, for her... for his Violet.

"I love you."

A rare smile lifted slightly as she held him tight feeling everything fall away against the sound of that voice.

A slip of velvet wrapped in beautiful madness carried upon infinite heights of devotion meant just for her.

"I love you Tate."

**tvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtvtv**

**_Dinah, Gwenyth, and guest, thank you so much for your reviews_**

**_Sorry for the long absence, for those still interested I promise to finish this._**


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